Pinkie Promise
by Laura Messer
Summary: On his walk home, Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD, finds Clint Barton; 6 years old, homeless and alone with a German Shepard as his best friend. As Phil fights to protect Clint from the threats of the past, he gains a son, a dog, a partner and a new family. But, can he keep his pinkie promises? *Now with a one-shot about the Barnes-Coulson family dealing with baby's first tooth!*
1. 192 Days : 00 Hours : 00 Minutes

"Phil, get out, go to Vegas, get a dog or some shit. Just TAKE. A. BREAK! We will survive without you for two days."

"Sir-"

"NO. GET. OUT."

I fixed my tie, cleared my throat and (unwillingly) thanked Nick Fury, while calmly storming out of his office. Well, no one who didn't know me would notice my fury (pardon the pun).

After all I've done for Marcus this year... this fucking decade!? With The Avengers plus Sergeant Barnes, (there's still some getting used to that and definite awkward flashbacks of meeting Steve when I'm with Sergea-James. He told me to call him James...) and I get thrown out on my ass, told to get a life and see you on Monday? Screw him. I have a life.

"You have a life."

"Are you sure Hill tested you for mind reading?" I asked Agent Natasha Romanoff as she slinked down the empty hall beside me. Empty due to our presence; Natasha's presence at least. There are many bets and pools of our relationship, her loyalty and my sanity.

"That's classified." She said almost more straight faced than me.

"I've got a higher clearance level than you. Where did you hide this time?"

"I don't hide, I observe in a space out of eye line to preserve the integrity of the information I receive. As Tony would put it, I'm a 'spy through and through'." She says as we finally enter my office, still having not looked into my eyes. We've discussed her reading me and my body language for her own gain. She's been brought in from the cold, literally, for almost 8 years now. We've made huge steps towards trust and loyalty but she doesn't trust herself with me sometimes. She doesn't believe I can trust her with my life and my secrets completely because my ledger is too empty, too honest, too naive. Natasha may be covered in red and deceit but she is filled with loyalty and unwavering love; and I think I may know something about her before she herself has, for once.

"Spy or not. Fury can send you to Antarctica for six months if he wants to. So, I suppose I'll see you in two days. Don't get into trouble, don't let Tony get into trouble, don't play with the Avengers and we can survive until Monday." I say as I pull on my dark navy jacket over my suit blazer and pick up my filled briefcase. Just because I'm not /at/ work doesn't mean I can't work.

"I guess. Have a nice break. I'm not busy. Don't /you/ get into trouble." That's the closest she's gotten so far to telling me to call her and stay safe (and alive). Well, closest when we're not on the brink of death.

"I'm telling you, trouble finds /me/." I end our conversation as I enter the elevator and she continues down the corridor, red hair flowing around her neckline, black jumpsuit ready to be unzipped from its day's strain and killer heels loaded to be used.

O f course I have to happen upon a local dog pound on my evening walk. I like to enjoy the numbness of the unusually quiet streets of back alley New York, my mind will wander and my feet will keep walking but my instincts will heighten. I contemplate going in. I know I wouldn't be able to keep a large pet very well with my work hours; thinking back sorrowfully about the three dead fish and that one abused crab. It's classified.

Though, that doesn't mean I can't annoy the shit out of Marcus with a large, loud dog on the Helicarrier. Promoting his idea and listening to authority and what not. We sometimes forget we've known each other since I was nineteen and he was twenty five. He changed my life forever and has kept changing it for two decades. And I can't say I'm sorry.

No, I might be annoyed, but I'm not stupid and I refuse to put a dog through my lifestyle. As I walk on, my instincts scream at me. Whether it's of danger or to help, I'll never fully understand. Then I see them. A young boy, young in looks and age but old in experience and life. He's around five, cropped sandy hair, steeled but watery blue eyes and a lanky arm around the neck of a scruffy German Shepard about the same size as the boy himself. The dog is ready to attack me to protect the kid. The pair of them make me uneasy but also I become unusually attached to the stares directed at me. They are so tired. So pained. Too finished with their short lives. A lot like Natasha's. I'll blame the reminder of her dark eyes for the consequential events but I knew it was my own idiotic flaw of kindness and naive helpfulness that led me astray, but also towards something I wouldn't give up to even Nick Fury.

"Hey. Are you two okay?" The dog takes another step at me, snarling as I lower to a crouch position about three metres from theirs in front of the overflowing and overwhelmingly smelly bins. He's so big he drags the boy with him in his step.

"Go away!" The boy shouts but his voice is broken and raspy, in the least he has a throat infection.

"I'm not gonna hurt you or take you away or even split the two of you up. I swear. Do you want to tell me your name? Or his?" I nod my head towards the dog who seems to have calmed at my soft tone. Assessing the threat.

The boy sniffles some more before sighing and narrowing his eyes giving an answer.

"Max. S'mine. Keeps'me safe. Who're you?" He straightens his shoulders to prove his courage although I know this kid is wise and brave far beyond his years.

"Hi, Max. I'm Agent Phil Coulson. I can show you my badge? I just want to know if you're okay. Do you need any help? Some money?" I make slow movements to pull out my badge and throw it gently on the ground towards the boy.

I can see him struggle with the words, although adults also struggle with the SHIELD anagram. Who the hell would leave him here? And for how long?

"S'real. M'not supposed to talk ta cops." He adds quietly, seemingly unsure of things he's known all his life. He throws it back to me limply and I place it in my jacket pocket.

"It's okay. I'm not going to say or do anything you don't want me to. I'm off duty anyway. Do you need help getting home or calling someone? How long have you been here?" He shuffles his feet and the German Shepard - Max - has settled with a seated pose by the boys feet, still between us but with no more snarling, just glaring.

"B-B-Barney. He... He left me behind. What dayzit?!" He furrows his brow as my heart stutters a little at his pout and his words. I'm so screwed.

"Friday 13th of June." I should have been wary of that date but I've never really been superstitious, maybe I should be. His face drops and he pales at the knowledge. As he stands dreamily frozen I get a chance to look him over. Max has moved a little to whimper and check on him, allowing me to scope for injuries and clothes. He's wearing a too big leather jacket, ripped jeans, also too big, a purple t-shirt, too small this time, and busted sneakers. There's a scar on his neck line, one behind his left ear, one on his right wrist and multiples of various bruising. His clothes are covered in mud splatters and the odd oil drop, his hair is sticking to his forehead from leftover raindrops and grease and his hands are similarly dirtied.

"6 days." He mumbles and my breathe catches as the tears stream down his face but his eyes stay hardened as if he's accepted his fate and his pain in his mind and awaiting his body to catch up. "No. No home. No... Fam-family. 6 days. Gone 5 days ago. Without m-m-me." He hiccups. The tears are free flowing now and I'm done, so very thoroughly done with everything. Fuck this. I'm hugging this boy and I'm killing this 'Barney'.

I tug him towards me, Max growls ever so slightly, wavering on a bark when the kid freezes at my actions but when I wrap him in my arms and place my hand comfortably on the back of his head, soothing him, they both relax.

After almost fifteen minutes of sniffling, I wrap him in my raincoat and lift his tired body into my arms. I call after Max and we walk the twenty minute journey back to my apartment. The boy eventually falls asleep, after stubbornly fighting it for who knows how long, on the walk over but wakes immediately when I stop at my front door to fumble with the keys.

"No. NO! Please! No!" He shouts and screams, aggravating his throat more but there's a fire in his eyes and a pain in his tone.

"Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Okay. It's okay. What's wrong?" I ask quietly as I sat him down on the ground again. Max nudges at his stomach to calm him.

"Please don't hurt me. Please. I don't wanna go t'prison. M'sorry. I- I - I..."

"No. No no no. I'm not arresting you or anything. I'm just going to get you something to eat, maybe a shower, a rest? I can wash your clothes or get you new ones. It's all up to you. And Max will be with you the whole time... pinkie promise? It's the one kind of promise I can never break." I tilt my head at his curious yet nervous expression, offering my pinkie to him. After a moment's deliberation he fights a smile, twists his pinkie around mine and nods.

I open the door to my contained two bedroom apartment. He follows me slowly, trailing Max. I'm rarely here but it's clean and simple. I've got some Captain America memorabilia here and there, even some stuff about Sergeant- James. The couch is a comfy, worn soft material and I've got a matching recliner. The coffee table is a dusty oak wood to match the sofa colours and the black flat screen is a stark contrast to the light browns and creams. Down the hall you can see some of my bedroom from the cracked open door, its dark blues and blacks, blackout shades and dark wardrobe. A bathroom is the next door up from the bottom and then the spare bedroom decorated in shades of easy green. A small kitchen with an island and some stools makes my kitchen/dining room table. It's mainly in blacks and creams, more modern than anything else in the apartment.

"C- Clint." I hear a whisper from behind me.

"Sorry?" I lower myself to face him after closing the door and locking it.

"M- my name. It's... Is Clint. Barton. Um... Clinton Francis Barton." He declares proudly when he sees I'm not making any anger or movement towards him, it's endearing. And useful.

"That's a fantastic name. I'm Phillip James Coulson. Most people just call me Phil or Coulson. Can I call you Clint?" I raise my eyebrows minutely at the little glow on his face with my praise of his own name. What the hell happened to this kid?!

He nods enthusiastically. "Yes."

"Okay, Clint. You can call me Phil. Would you like something to eat? You can help me cook something if you want?" I swear to the God I don't believe in that I will spend the rest of eternity being re-stabbed by Loki if Clint gets to smile like this forever. I don't think I've ever loved a smile so much or wanted to cry over one before. He actually looks younger when he smiles, if that's actually possible.

"Yes. Please. Th-Thank you... Phil." My smile must be as goofy as his because his only gets bigger. I feel like the goddamn Grinch with my heart growing about three sizes.

"What would you like? I've got soup. Mac and Cheese... Or beef stir-fry and rice or noodles?" I ask when I help him remove my jacket and his. He picks at the holes in his t-shirt, biting on his lower lip as he thinks it through.

"Mac'n'Cheese... Please?" He asks quietly. I just smile at him.

"Absolutely. It's my favourite." I encourage him just to see how long I can keep that smile on his precious face.

"Me too!" He giggles and when I couldn't think I could fall deeper in Clint's little trap, I defied all expectations and did just that.

After four hours, cooking Mac and Cheese together, giving Clint some clothes to wear after a hot bath while I wash his, and some light as well as heavy discussion, Clint has passed out on my lap in the living room.

We had decided to watch Bugsy Malone, one of my childhood favourites. He took a while to trust me enough to watch him and keep him safe in his vulnerable state but he's fully asleep on me now. I now know Clint's favourite food, full name, favourite colour (purple), Barney is his brother and only family, his parents died somehow when he was three, he's six years old, there's someone called Jacques (the Swordsman?), there's a circus whom I presume left him behind when Carson's Travelling circus left the city 5 days ago and he found Max on the streets, shared his found food with him on his first day alone and they became best friends.

Max hasn't strayed his side once, he's even curled right up against my leg on the couch with us. I think he's warming to me also. I gave him a quick wash while Clint was getting washed too. He doesn't have a collar but he enjoys Mac and Cheese. I should probably get him food, a leash and stuff.

Dammit. I'm getting attached. No, screw that, I'm an idiotic idiot who got attached to a six year old on the streets with a growling dog who both gave me tired looks, smiles a beautiful smile, loves purple and Mac and Cheese and likes to call me Phil. I'm a dumbass who's never gonna let anything happen to these two; if they stay with me or (most likely) not. I will fight for them.

For now, I will I put them to bed and I can call in some names to check out and receive some info tomorrow. Agent Marlow owes me a few.

As I wrap Clint under the duvet in the guest room, remove the hair from his eyes and Max steals the space beside him, I just stare at the boy who stole my heart in the space of five hours, possibly less.

I'm asleep. Or, I was, until I felt the movement outside my door. I kept it open a touch to listen out for Clint or Max. I hear shuffling of small feet and muffled sniffling.

"Clint?" I sit up a little and readjust to the new light of the opened door. Clint is standing in my shrunk army t-shirt and SHIELD shorts, trailing my only purple blanket. I can hear Max snoring in the background, probably unaware to Clint's disappearance.

"Ph- Phil?" Clint sniffles and lowers his head.

I get out of bed, after deciding to sleep in a band t-shirt (don't tell Tony) and bottoms due to the company, and crouch in front of the boy, wiping away the tears.

"What's wrong, Clint?"

"I had a... a nigh'mare. M'sorry. Din'mean t'wake you..." He sniffles some more, moving away.

"It's okay. It's fine. You can come and find me. Whenever you need me, I'll come, okay? Pinkie promise." I know I'll come running if he needs me, I just need him to know it now too. So, he curls his pinkie around mine as tight as he can. Then I suggest a solution...

"I get nightmares too. Why don't you sleep in with me? You can protect me and I can protect you, huh?" His eyes sparkle at the idea and he nods vigorously. I lift him and wrap the blanket around him, walking back over to my bed; he's too light. I need to get him a check-up, for definite.

I lower him down on the opposite side to me and I settle back down on the mattress. Blankets covering us both. He's silent but he seemingly takes a deep breath, moves closer snuggles into my chest and grabs a hold of my t-shirt in a white knuckle grip. I can feel him let the breath go when I wrap my arm around him and squeeze him in tighter.

This is probably the closest thing to peace I've had in the last 10 years. I don't know what I'm going to do or what Clint wants to do but I'm never leaving him behind. I'm not doing that to him again.

I place a kiss to his head, his breathing evening out and I drift off myself to the comfort of his weight in my arms and Max snoring in the background.


	2. 191 Days : 13 Hours : 42 Minutes

I was awoken again by someone. Although, it's now 10:13am and I'm usually up by 8am but the comfort of Clint probably let my own body relax also.

There's someone, or something, knocking on my front door. Clint is still wrapped around me but I can hear Max beginning to bark. I swear if he wakes Clint up he can sleep outside. At least there hasn't been an Avengers call out; maybe Marcus would give it to Hill since I'm on "vacation".

I pull away from Clint's grasp and tumble out the bedroom door, grabbing Max by the neck before checking the peep hole for identification.

And, oh wow. It's... SHIT. It's Sergeant Bar- I mean James... I have to call him James. His smile kind of reminds me of Clint when I call him by his first name. And now I'm smiling like a goofball. Dammit! I forgot, I've been introducing James to the 21st century like I had for Steve, although he's been even more reluctant; up until recently anyway...

"James. Hi."

There's that smile. "Phil. Hey..."

He staring at Max who's pulling my arm to try and sniff the new guy. I decide to let him, James is hardly in need of protection.

"Hi there. And what's your name?" He sniggers, brown eyes sparkling right at me and hair slicked modernly after he cut it in separation of the Winter Soldier programming.

"Uh... Max. He's called Max."

"Hey, Max. I didn't know you had a dog?" He ruffles Max's fur from the crouch position he's at on my front door. He's been to my apartment a record of three times over six months.

"Um..."

"And a... kid?"

"Phil?" Clint rasps as he wanders towards me rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I lift him into full view and safety in my arms. He throws his arms around my neck and stares observantly at James. His suspicion of me has calmed a lot overnight, whether it's due to the pinkie promises or his gut instinct, who knows.

"Oh. Yeah. Um... It's a long story. Why don't you come in and we can get some breakfast and I can explain."

"Uh. Yeah. Definitely. Hello there, I'm James Barnes. I work with Phil." James tips his head smugly and offers his hand to shake to Clint.

Clint stares him down and repeats his straightening shoulder act to provide his full name.

"Clinton Francis Barton." He shakes James' hand as best he can and snuggles around me again.

"Alright then. You can call me Bucky. Most people do." James offers as I close the door behind him and we head to my tiny kitchen.

"Phil doesn't?"

"Smart kid. You can call me James too, if you want? I- I... Um... Like it when Phil calls me James. He's... special. And if you're special to Phil then you're special to me. So, call me James, Clinton."

I don't think I've ever blushed so heavily in my life. I have no idea if James can see my reaction from behind me but this is ridiculous. I'm a grown man!

"Clint. 'Cos you're special t'Phil n Phil s'special t'me too he pinkie'd on it. M'Clint, James." I'm definitely going to die from an oversized heart with these two.

"Ha-ha! You can never break a pinkie promise. Alright bud. Did you need help with breakfast, Phil?" James asks me when he notices Clint's tightening arms when I try to set him on a kitchen stool.

"That would be great, thank you. Tasha left waffle mix in the fridge and the waffle iron is in the third cupboard over." I can see his face fall a little at the mention of Natasha. Although, they both share the Red Room experience, maybe it's some old memories.

"Umm. Yeah. No problem. So, Natasha, huh?" James questions as he switches the waffle maker on and I sit with Clint on my lap watching him from the island.

"Uh. Yeah, she's a really weird kind of a friend." He seems to brighten up at the term 'friend' although maybe I'm being too hopeful.

"Friend. Right, great! Yep. She's a strange one. So... Do I get to know about the kid and the dog?" James nudges towards Clint asleep on my lap and Max asleep at my feet as he pours some batter onto the machine.

"Oh. Of course. You're my... friend?"

"Of course, Phil." He butts in with probably the most sincere look and tone I've seen and heard from him; even when he's speaking to Steve. It's like I can see into him, past the guards and the bravado. Just... James. With the checked shirt and unintentionally ripped jeans paired with work boots and a leather jacket just darker than Clint's. With the subtle sparkle of green in his eyes and the pure beauty of his mechanical arm. I'm surprised Clint hadn't asked or noticed that yet. Maybe he'll mention it when he wakes, at least I can warn James in case it's a touchy subject; it certainly used to be.

"Thank you." I'm just as sincere as him and he gives me this wide-eyed look but I interrupt to explain and he switches the newly cooked waffles for more batter. "I was out walking last night..."

"Ohh. Your 'worry walk'." James sniggered at the somewhat stricken look on my face.

"I don't 'worry walk'. I... I - at the least it's a relief walk from all of you! Stop interrupting." He smiles gleefully at getting me to loosen up, I presume, and nods my continuance.

"Anyway. I was walking and Fury had told me to get a dog or something. I walk past this pound and I consider it. Just to annoy him. Not for myself. And then... And then I see them. In the alley. Sniffling and glaring and tired. James... They were so tired. And I couldn't leave them. So I took them here, washed them, fed them and put them to bed. He slept in bed with me after a nightmare." I informed him as I let my actions weigh on me, holding Clint closer and running my fingers through his hair.

I didn't even notice James turn off the waffle iron, walk around the island and envelope us both in a hug until I feel him kiss my cheek. I must jump a little in surprise, and I can feel my cheeks heat profusely, as Clint jolts awake in the too-soon-ending hug.

"Hey bud. Ready for some waffles? M'sure Phil has some chocolate sauce somewhere, right?" James shoots me a genuinely pleased smile and Clint sleepily grins at the word chocolate.

"Yes. Fridge door. Thank you... James. Seriously." I smile unguardedly and I don't think I'll ever stop blushing.

"No problem whatsoever. Here we go... waffles, chocolate and some random berries. Wouldn't dream of anything better. Especially the company."

"Thank you, James." Clint grins as he re-seats himself on my lap and stuffs his face with waffles. I'm glad he trusts us with even this small gesture. Last night Clint had to watch everything I cooked, I knew he would which was why I offered to let him help me make dinner. Now, he seems to be okay as long as I'm around.

Once we finished eating and washed up, I left Clint in the living room with some cartoons and Max. His clothes are finally done but I need to get him some fitted clothes. And to a Doctor. And maybe a social worker. Or Marcus. Or something. I need a plan of action, luckily I've got a highly trained sniper and soldier to help. Which I can't say I'm not over the moon about. Although...

"James. I'm so sorry, I never asked you what you wanted when you stopped by. I mean, you cooked us breakfast, cleaned up, you're even helping me to mind a kid who you have no idea is. I've been a terrible host. I'm so sorry."

"Phil, don't be ridiculous! I like to cook, but that was essentially watching a machine cook, not manual labour. And I never mind cleaning, my Mom beat that into me and Stevie. Clint... he's, well, he's damn amazing. He's so smart and too wise. I mean, you had no idea who he was or what you were doing but you took him and a dog in anyway. All I'm doing is giving some unworthy advice and cracking jokes. I... Ahem... I came to see if you maybe wanted to I don't know... Go out or something. If you weren't busy and Natasha said you had the weekend off and you never have any time off or are free or anything. I... - Look, I, oh I don't know. Just put me out of my misery and shove a bar of soap in my mouth or some-".

Oh. I (not very smoothly) plant a chaste kiss on his lips to 'shut him up', as required. But, hell, when James kisses he does it like everything else, with passion and determination and a little smugness - although his flirting was an awful lot like Steve's stammering to Natasha just then. What was a method of silencing turns to a tongue battle of moans and groans. He's got a metal hand wrapped around my band shirt collar, holding me close while his flesh covered hand caresses my neck, jaw and face. I've got either hand on his hips and partially his thighs from our knocking-knees sitting position on the kitchen stools.

I could climb right into his lap but I remember the six year old through the door and what the hell I'm wearing and I must stink and... And... This is JAMES. Not Steve's Bucky or the Red Room's Winter Soldier... This is James Barnes. Ex-Soldier. Loveable rogue. Phil Coulson's huge crush. And he wanted to ask me out... on a date, if I presumed correctly and he's not just making out with me for a cruel dare. Tony wouldn't. Right?

We finally break as this rushes through my head. But James smiles gloriously and breathlessly as he stares into my eyes and we rest our foreheads together, heaving oxygen.

"Phil. Will you go out on a date with me?" I have to laugh at the insanity of the situation but also in glee.

"James. I would love to." Then James joins in in my laughter, he hugs me close and whispers in my ear.

"I really like you, you know?"

"I actually didn't. Thanks for the notification." We both snigger and he calls me a doofus which I kind of love.

"I really like you too. I've kind of... got a kid to sort out right now though. If you don't mind?"

"I'd like to help, if /you/ don't mind?"

"That would be great, thank you. I sent through some names and info to SHIELD for a background check, I should get an email any minute now."

"Phil? James?" We jump apart, me almost falling off the stool completely but saved by James' grip on my t-shirt.

"Clint! Hey. Oh, no. Wait, wait, wait! What's wrong?" His face has paled completely. The pure terror in his movements made my heart hammer.

"No. M'sorry. D'in mean to. I d'in. I SWEAR! PLEASE NO NO NO! PHIL PLEASE! DON' PUNISH ME! M'SORRY SO SORRY SO SORRY!" He trips over himself trying to run backwards as I walk towards him. He ends up half on my dusty rug hacking coughs, more to do with an infection than dust, I fear.

"No no no. Clint. Stop. Shhh. Shhh. It's alright! I'm not going to hurt you. You didn't do anything. You didn't. Pinkie? Come on. I pinkie promise no one will ever hurt you again. Shhh. Clint. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I keep mumbling to him as I cradle him in my arms on the floor. The tears prickle my eyes as he grabs tightly to my pinkie in disbelief and desperate hope. James grabbed his purple blanket to bundle us up in and kissed my head as I fought back tears. Max stumbled over sadly to nudge at us all on the floor.

We finally get a chance to look at Clint's file, or the file Agent Marlow compiled from my knowledge and some research, as Clint eventually calmed down enough to pass out from exhaustion in James' arms; hugging the metal hand to his chest like a cuddly toy. James did explain to him partially about the arm but Clint didn't ask, I think he's not supposed to ask questions, especially about injuries or significant markings.

I stare at my laptop trying to calm myself down from the revelations on the screen.

Over the past 5 years, Clinton Francis Barton AKA Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye AKA One half of the Barton Brother thieves AKA the six year old boy under the purple blanket on my couch, has been involved in 793 robberies/major accidents/illegal incidences; arrived in A&E 417 times, 32 broken bones, 57 fractures, multiple lacerations and bruises and 4 life-threatening injuries; been arrested 19 times; and he is /6 years old. /

Clint's parents died in an alcohol related driving accident four years ago, his father seemed to be an abusive drunk for the little time they had parents. He and his 11 year old brother were thrown into the system to escape two days later and become a large part of the sketchy Carson's Travelling Circus for the past four years. Almost all illegal events are related to the circus and a quarter are due to Charles Bernard 'Barney' Barton's exploitation of his little brother. It is unknown where the circus are at this moment in time or where the other half of the Barton brothers are but I am never letting Clint go near them again or get hurt ever again. He could rival some of /my/ injuries.

We need to talk to him. Properly. I trust Clint. He's made no attempt to ask for information or steal or get away from here. I can only hope everyone else understands; most of all James. We just need to understand Clint, like what the hell made him freak out before?

"Phil? Phil? What is it? I want to know." James pleads with me, holding onto my forearm to ground me.

"It- I- it's bad. Really bad."

I go on to spend the most of an hour discussing with James Clint's past and his possible future. It's not loud or aggressive or judging. He understands and I might never truly know why he does but he does and I will be forever grateful to him for this. We decide to talk to Clint whenever he wakes. In the meantime, I head to my ensuite for a shower and a change of clothes.

In the shower, which may have to turn cold if I keep thinking about James, but I can't help but worry over what this means for the two of us and what exactly he's looking for. I leave the shower and change into a soft pair of jeans, an old t-shirt from the bottom of my drawer and a pair of socks.

I walk back out to see James sitting up beside an almost fully awake Clint on the end of the couch.

"Hey, ace. You're awake." I smile reassuringly as Clint scrubs his eyes wearily and nods.

"Really, Phil? Are you kidding me?" James looks at me incredulously.

"What?" I'm genuinely confused.

"Your t-shirt?" He points and grins.

I look down and notice my faded Captain America Shield t-shirt. Oops. My blush returns as I look back up to a smirking James.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't even looking. I'll go change."

"No. Don't do that!" He smirks again and strides over to whisper in my ear, "I mean... it's kinda faded. Just the star's left. My star. It's kinda hot. I mean, you always look hot but... This is a fantastic look." And he kisses my cheek; Clint's still in the room.

My blush deepens but I smile widely as we sit on either side of each other on the coffee table, facing Clint who's now fully awake and pretty scared looking.

"M'sorry."

"What? Clint, what for? I don't understand. You didn't do anything wrong. Can you tell me what happened?" I ask worriedly.

"And remember, we pinkie'd, no one is ever going to hurt you." James reminded him and patted his knee gently.

"I... I- in'rupted you n'James. M'not s'pposed t'do that. 'M'nosy lil punk' n'a 'cock blocker' so I get punished. M'sorry. So sorry." Clint cries quietly and James and I swaddle him between us on the couch, keeping him close to contain our anger at whoever did and said this.

"Clint. Look at me. I told you. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. You aren't any of those things and you didn't do anything wrong. There's no way I wouldn't be there..."

"The same goes for me bud." James interrupts and my stomach flips at his honesty.

"We know what happened, Clint. You don't need to tell us anything you don't want to, but we are here to help you and keep you safe. We trust you. We need you to trust us."

"I... I do." Clint sniffles holding onto my shirt and James' mechanical arm.

"Then... what do you want to do? I can call a friend, get a nice family to take care of you? Or... or you can stay here. With me?"

"Really?" Clint asks quietly with utter desperation and hope.

"Pinkie promise?" I chuckle a little nervously; this kid is breaking every barrier I have like wet sand.

James and I both flinch in instinct as Clint jumps up and wraps around my neck and torso.

"Yes, yes, yes. Please? Phil? Please? Pinkie promise!" I enclose him in a tight hug mumbling 'of course' and 'always', and I know in my heart I mean it. Yes, it's been only 24 hours since I took Clint and Max in, but no one has ever so thoroughly and quickly locked themselves eternally in my heart.

I don't know if my imagination and emotions or going wild or not, who knows, but I could swear I saw James swipe away a tear before hugging us also.

"James too?" Clint asks with a teary smile that I don't want to ever see disappear but I don't want to lie either. James and I never got a chance to decide on our situation before now.

"If Phil and you would like... I'm in it for the long haul, bud." James states, intentionally not looking at me in fear of refusal, but keeping similarly hopeful eyes mirrored to Clint's.

"Yes. I would love that very much." I admit with a bright smile which also develops onto James' face when he looks right into my eyes.

"Yes, please." Clint agrees and leaps off of me to hug James just as tightly.

I lean over and place a chaste but passionate kiss on James. If possible, he smiles even brighter.

"Are... I... Um..." Clint mumbles and then suddenly quiets between us.

"Clint, you can ask us anything. We're a team now. Come on bud. What's up?" James encourages him.

"Are you n'Phil married?" He asks innocently and James and I both clam up a little.

"No." I'm speaking before I even know what I'm doing, "We're not. We're..." And I don't know how to answer this question!?

"Partners. I guess would be the term?" James looks to me for agreement.

"Yes. That's it. Partners." Perfect. Boyfriends sounds very juvenile.

"Then I wan' a par'ner too someday." Clint smiles at us and we chuckle. This is one of maybe two times I've seen him act like a normal six year old and it's wonderful.

Until he starts racking with coughing again.

"Ohh. It's okay, ace, just breathe. You're okay. Shhh. Deep breathes." I rub his back as he snuggles on my lap, his back to my front and his head on my chest. He blinks back tears of pain as I comfort him.

"We need to go see someone about your cough buddy. Come on, I know a Doc." James stands to retrieve our shoes.

"No. M'okay. Don'need to. Please." Clint shakes his head on my chest clutching at me.

"It's okay, Clint. Bruce is our friend. He doesn't even wear a white coat. We trust him. And we'll be with you the whole time. Pinkie?" Clint nods and takes my offered finger.

"We're gonna go to my house... well, tower. Well, Tony's tower... Have you ever heard of the Avengers?" Clint immediately brightens at the name.

"Yes! They're m'favrites! S'pecially Wint'r Soldier n' Ir'n Man. N'there's Hulk n' Widow n' Thor n' CAPTAIN AMERICA!" Clint goes on and on and speaks the most we've ever heard him talk that wasn't in fear. James grins ecstatically and I laugh at his obviously perfect observations.

"Well, guess what bud? My name's James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier. Phil is the Avengers' boss-man. Captain America, Steve, is my best friend, and we're gonna go meet the rest of the guys at Avenger's Tower. Even the Hulk, Bruce, is gonna look you over to make sure you're okay." James reveals as excitedly as Clint's expression.

"Really!?" Clint is almost bouncing in anticipation.

"Absolutely!" I chime in as Clint explodes with excitement and throws on his sneakers, grabbing my hand to hurry me up as James is already ready.

"Come on, Phil! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" He giggles as James grabs his waist to hoist him and fireman carry him out the front door as I follow with Max jumping around us. He needs to be walked and I do enjoy annoying Tony.

"James, if you make him throw up, you're sorting it out..." I warn with a smirk on my face. As we walk down the stairs of my building.

"Ha-ha. Fine." James lifts him onto his shoulders for a piggy back ride after zipping up both their leather jackets and we exit onto the pavement. The Tower is a ten minute walk away. It was either this or I live with them. It still gives me shivers to think about living with Tony Stark, although Pepper is my best friend following Tasha.

Shit. What the hell are they going to say about this?!


	3. 191 Days : 05 Hours : 27 Minutes

"A kid? Really?"

"And a dog. Just like you asked, sir." I replied smugly, taking pointers from James who was in Bruce's lab. He's stood over Clint laying on the table as JARVIS scanned him. Max was in an in-depth conversation with Thor. Damn All-Speak.

Natasha called Marcus, Pepper and Steve who were off reservation to ask about my sanity and relay the details which none of them believed until they arrived at the Tower to witness it for themselves. This was Natasha being worried and caring. It was humorous. Although, they were more shocked at the development of mine and James' relationship. Apparently we're emotionally stunted on the best of days (This is coming from Natasha, Steve and Tony; the most emotionally stunted people on the team.) But, I don't care about any of it. They're all my family and this is their strange way of helping me. Even Tony has run off spouting about floors and clothes and toys and dog stuff. I can worry about that later, now, Bruce is calling me away from Marcus' disbelief for Clint's diagnosis with James by my side.

"Well... Um... I'm going to need you both to stay calm. For Clint's sake and for the Hulk to remain where he is. This is /not nice/." We both nod as Bruce cleans his glasses and I try to control the sickening feeling in my stomach.

It's curbed by the strong hold James has on my hand.

"He... we'll go from minor to major. I know you've said you've read his file of medical histories so I'll not delve into x-rays or old scars. They aren't a hindrance and prove to be healed well, surprisingly. He's got a throat infection which can be sorted through rest, fluids and some antibiotics. Then there's the weight and height problem. He's about 20 pounds under weight and at least 6 inches shorter than average. This can be fixed with a balanced diet and observation. He's emotionally and mentally guarded, untrusting from the get go, but he likes the Avengers and thinks you two are 'special' so we'll be okay /for now./ He needs help understanding and learning to trust others. He is highly intelligent, without proper education whatsoever that is, but his speech pattern is a little off which leads to the reason... and his only major concern... Ahem... Clint is almost half deaf." I've been nodding and kept my legendary stone-y expression throughout. Bruce had been listing stuff I mostly already guessed but that last revelation gutted me. James tightened his hand as he felt me tense. I was pulled into his arms as I heard Bruce controlling his breathing behind me. Over James' shoulder I can see Clint playing with the Legos Tony found somewhere. He's building what looks an awful lot like a Quinjet. I feel a tear run down my cheek but it's like I'm disconnected from everything. I can feel the vibrations of James mumbling but I can't hear the words and then I take a deep breath. I'm back. I remove myself from the comfort and resort to Agent mode facing Bruce once more.

"How?" I question, arms crossed.

"He had multiple previous uncared for infections, especially ear and throat, as well as beatings and scars in and around his ears. He has a very high capability to read mouths and he can hear most things. There will be no need for implants or hearing aids if you guys don't want. He's not in pain. We just need to keep away from more infections and pay close attention in case it deteriorates further." I loosen a little. He's not in pain. I can still kill Barney Barton. He doesn't need surgery. Yet. Deep breaths.

I can feel James' presence behind me leave and I immediately think he's leaving us, it's too much, it's too hard. We're not perfect for him. Every flaw and problem slams to my forefront as I swivel on the spot to see James march over and say something that makes Clint tilt his head, smile and run to give him a hug. I steadily make my way over, close enough to hear them now.

"Bett'r?" Clint asks James thoughtfully.

"Much better. Thank you." I can see James' frame fall and loosen around Clint.

"D'you wan' one too?" Clint asks as I crouch beside them.

"One what ace?" I ask confusedly and James smiles bashfully for once.

"A lil bird hug t'make you better? James s'not feelin' well n' said I could give'em a hug n' make it go 'way?" I smile as I realise James needed the comfort of holding Clint to lighten the blow but didn't want to scare him away. I think I need it a little too.

"I would love one, Clint. Hey, pinkie promise you'll let me know if your ear hurts?"

"M'kay." He openly grins as I hug him back tightly, my breathing evening as I do realise he's okay, more than, he's fantastic and I- we are going to fight to make sure he stays that way.

"Well, here we go. Your floor's gonna take another week to finish up since I just marked in the schematics and because this is going to be larger than all the other guest floors, it'll take a bit more time. Plus everything else has to become kid and pet friendly. We'll just have to keep you in Bucky's room, which I've sorted out, until all this is ready. And all of the items have arrived. Good? Great. I'm a genius. Speaking of. Where are the kid and the pet?" Tony blabbered at James and I in the now construction area after only knowing this new information for two and a half hours.

"Tony. Phil and I haven't even had a first date yet! We can't just move in and become parents with a kid and a dog! That's not how it works! There is seriously no need for any of this, but thank you for the gesture. And we never ordered any 'items'?" James stares Tony down. Tony will never admit it but people denying him these kinds of things hurts because it's how he helps and shows his feelings. I know James doesn't mean it, and I can definitely see where he's coming from. I did not want to live with the Avengers, almost at all.

"Tony, can you give us a minute to talk. Go see if Thor's finished speaking with Max yet. Maybe tell Natasha to lay off of the martial arts classes for the night; Clint's six not sixteen. Thank you."

Tony leaves a little curiously quiet and James looks at me questioningly.

"What-" I silence James with a finger as he frowns at the gesture.

"JARVIS privacy mode please." James' frown lightens as he understands.

"Sorry, you're not a child. It's just a go to gesture around Stark." I apologise.

"It's okay. What are you thinking?" James chuckles.

"I'm thinking - why not? We're doing everything backwards anyway. Clint needs us both and this place is far bigger and safer than mine. No one... Barney's not going to get him here, not with the Avengers. Plus there are plenty of babysitters?"

"Yeah. First a kid and a dog, then an apartment... maybe I should just ask you to marry me on our first date?" James grins as I blush and he hugs me close.

"Are you sure?" We both ask simultaneously.

"Definitely." We both answer, laughing which turns into kissing.

"I seriously need to take you out on a date." James groans as we head toward the elevator.

"Yes, /dear/. Now let's go get our son..." We both freeze in our motions, in fear I've taken it too far I turn around to see a smile as bright as the stars on James' face.

"We should do that. Backwards right? Why don't we adopt him?" James suggests as I smile carefully back at him.

"There are so many reasons not to do this but I'm not willing to let anything get in our way anymore. I don't want there to be another Loki or Train before we can be happy. Clint is the most important thing now and even if we don't work out, you'll always be 'special' to us. So yeah, we can ask him?" I offer my hand to James as we walk towards the elevator and he kisses me happily.

"You two will always be 'special' to me too."

"Phil! James!" Clint shouted enthusiastically and jumped up from his position on the floor with Tony in front of all the 'items'; another Stark understatement. It seems Tony bought out three stores!

"Hey bud! What'd Tony get us?" James seemed rather calm about the whole situation; at least we don't have to buy all this stuff.

"We got lots n lots f'toys! N' Max got a bed n'a collar n' a bowl n' food! I got a tree house bed! N' some nice clothes for the 'prissy pants' people Tony says n' some cool clothes for th'awesome people! N' Avenger jammies!" Clint carried on telling us the lists of items as he dragged James over to point at each one and explain them. He's getting much better about speaking out; maybe twenty minutes with Tony Stark will do that to anyone.

"Thank you. We will be taking you up on your offer. Although, there was really no need for any of this." I whisper to Tony as we watch the other two.

"Sure there was. You're family. That's what family does, right? And he's a cute kid. And the dog is not allowed to shed, I disallow it!" Tony demands, grinning.

As I look over, Clint is finally tiring out, sitting in James' lap showing him each set of Avengers pyjamas.

"Okay, ace. Time for bed. Do you want something for supper?" I ask as I hoist him up from James and he yawns widely.

"Yes please. Can've some toast when we g'home?" I smile with a glowing warmth as he uses the term for my apartment.

"We're actually gonna stay here now buddy. The Avengers'll look out for you and there's plenty of room for your tree house bed and everything." James tells him as he rubs Clint's back and gathers some pyjamas for him. Clint smiles and agrees tiredly to the move. We all walk to the kitchen where the rest of the group are settling for the evening. I leave Clint to James as I put on some toast and hot chocolate.

"Congratulations, Phil, I didn't get a chance to say it earlier... and, take care of them, I'd hate to have to hurt you." Steve smiles rather menacingly for an American icon.

"I would let you hurt me if I let them down, Steve. I promise." As say as we shake hands and he leaves to talk to James now that Clint is dressed for bed and hugging my knees. He's a real cuddler. So, I lift him back into my arms.

"You'll be a great father Phil, call me whenever you need me." Pepper smiles gently and kisses my cheek and Clint's head before leaving.

Natasha still thinks I'm an idiot, I believe. But I also think I'm an idiot. So, she just sits, peels an apple with her knife in one go, silently watching over us from the kitchen counter.

Bruce chuckles as he enters the kitchen for his evening cup of tea, noticing the Avengers apparel.

"Great choice. Good night, Clint. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Bruce. G'night." Clint says and waves sleepily. The toast is buttered and hot chocolate poured so I set Clint down to carry the plate and I follow with the mugs up to James' floor level for the night.

"There's my two best guys! So, what are we watching? Favourite film, bud?" James greets us as he swaggers out from his room clad in sweats and an old Henley. He looks breath-taking.

"Haven't seen one..." Clint states shyly as James and I spare each other pained glances but then Clint giggles as James removes the plate from his hands and lifts him up.

"I've got an amazing movie! It's called Monsters Inc.! Here we go!" James playfully throws Clint onto the soft couch and places the plate on the coffee table with the mugs he takes from me. "And... there's some pyjamas for you on my bed down the hall, they should fit." James smiles predator-like before kissing me and settling next to Clint in front of the flat screen.

James' apartment is a lot like mine in its sparseness and plain quality. The main areas are shades of cream and whites and his bedroom is the same apart from the clear personal belongings thrown in. Like the old knitted blanket, some old photos, his clothes in the wash basket and different toiletries littering the shelves in the ensuite. It's not particularly messy, it's just lived-in. The bedroom seems to be the only room so far that seems like 'home'.

I look down and spot some chequered bottoms like the ones he saw me in this morning and a Henley with a star on the upper arm, same position as the star on James' actual arm. Tony must have bought it on a whim but it fits me snugly although the bottoms are a tad long.

I walk back down the hall to see two slices of toast left for me and a Captain America mug with quickly cooling hot chocolate. James and Clint are curled around each other with a space on Clint's other side for me. Clint is still clutching at James' arm but also now another friend; a dark purple stuffed bird.

"Quickly, we're at the part where they're checking for monsters in her room, we couldn't wait for you. Maybe I should help you change next time; it might be quicker?" James sniggers as I punch him lightly on the arm, blushing and settle down next to them.

"Thor leave Max back?" I whisper when I notice him walking in to settle below the TV in a bright pink collar.

"Yeah, apparently Max doesn't want to give in to societal animal stereotypes by going for a considered male collar colour. He likes pink, so sue'em? And Tony built in a door for him and extra safety features and locks for them both." James laughs quietly at the utterly dumbfounded look on my face.

"Shhh! Look, look!" Clint tells us as he points at Sully and Mike sneaking Boo into their workplace. This film kind of reminds me of our situation, I just hope it doesn't end the same way. I lock James' and my fingers together over Clint's head, feeling warm and safe with my new team.


	4. 182 Days : 17 Hours : 51 Minutes

"I'll leave the clean up to you on this one Cap. Good job, team."

"Iron Man signing out Agent, you can thank me for my awesome robot destroying skills by way of delicious food..."

"Widow out."

"Yes sir, Agent Coulson. Captain America over and out."

"Banner, with pants, boarding the Quinjet. Out."

"Winter Soldier is headin' home, babe. Tell Clint I'll meet him in the nets in 20. "

"Please refrain from nicknames on comms Soldier..." I reprimand James but it's more in embarrassment of my blushing than a real warning, "I'll let him know. Coulson out."

Over the past ten days I have been in meetings (arguments) with Marcus over my working tendencies and scheduling errors as I now have Clint to care for. We have decided on holding me behind the scenes, on surveillance duty, at the Tower during minor Avenger call-outs and I'll only need to be present in major incidences. I can complete any and all paperwork at the tower and it's best I stay within range of Clint for at least the next month in order to help him ease into Tower life and it's in habitants.

"Wazat James, Phil?" Clint asked excitedly as he bolted into the area newly designated for me as liaison to the Avengers with Max at his heels. Tony had JARVIS set up a passcode for entry in case something happened during a fight we didn't want Clint to see, he only gains entry whenever the footage is off. He's had enough trauma to last a life time, we don't need to add to it.

"Yeah ace. He said he'll meet you in the nets in 20 minutes." I hefted him onto my hip as I unplugged my headset and headed towards the kitchen to start making lunch for the team.

"Yay! S'everyone okay? Wazzit th'octopuses 'gain?" Clint asked, he was a very loving child as well as curious once he had the confidence to ask questions.

"Not this time, buddy. It was some nasty robots but we got them and nobody was hurt, there's just a bit of a mess to clean up. Speaking of messes... Have you tidied your room and the nets for you and James to play in?" I ask Clint before setting him on the kitchen counter to grab food to make sandwiches and soup.

"... no. I can be r'lly fast n' do it now!"

"Okay. Are you going to be practicing your gymnastics?" I encourage Clint while helping him down from the counter. He's had this fascination with heights and jumping off of things recently, I haven't figured out whether it's a phase or a habit that's helping him adjust; either way, Tony was good enough to extend his tree-house bed even more, adding nets, ladders and trampolines above the branches for Clint and James to practice and play on.

"Yep! Can've a p'nut butt'r n' jelly sammich after, Phil, please?" Clint asks me politely, his twinkling blue eyes staring up at me. And I reach down to kiss the top of his head.

"Of course you can buddy. Quick, go get cleaned up for James!" He smiles and runs off giggling, Max having decided to stick around the kitchen for the food.

That's another huge step; Clint feeling comfortable enough to ask for food or a drink or help with something, as well as him learning to do his own thing without Max's constant presence. It's also great to see Max getting along with everyone, he wasn't overly pleased with James bringing him to the vet for a check-up but he got a nice new dog bed out of it.

"What a beautiful scene to come home to..." James grins outwardly as I catch his eye from his stance in the kitchen door. I glance down at myself in realisation of my messed attire; white shirt sleeves rolled up, tie askew, top button undone, stirring a newly made soup.

"Hi." I blush.

"Hey," James saunters over in his dusty 'suit, smiling and greeting me with a breath-taking kiss.

"Your son is waiting... And the food is cooking..."

"Oh, so he's /my/ son as soon as we have to stop making-out..."

"No, he's /your/ son when he wants to do gymnastics in the ceiling otherwise I would break my neck. And this food is seriously not going to finish itself."

"Heh. Has the papers gone through on the adoption agency yet?"

"Not yet, I'm just glad to be able to do it and that Clint wants us. Even after a week."

"He loves us! Don't worry about it! And, I am taking you out this week, just us, I swear! Mmm... It smells good, save us some!" James groans and kisses my forehead before jogging towards our apartment.

That's another thing, we /still/ haven't been out on our first date yet. I'm not annoyed or upset because it's understandable with everything happening at once but I'm definitely looking forward to some time for just the two of us.

"Okay guys, food's here."

I call out, searching through Clint's room for my boys.

"TOUCH DOWN!" James' voice echoes through the room as Clint lands a perfect finishing pose two feet in front of me, arms in the air with a smile as bright as the sun on his face.

"Wow. That was amazing, Clint! Well done!"

"I know. I'm a great teacher." James' grin resonates through his tone in my ear behind me as he completes an extended version of Clint's landing.

"Izzit Gold, Phil? James says imma be n'lympian n' win GOLD!" Clint shares a grin with James as they clean their hands of chalk and tape.

"You can win gold if you try your very hardest ace. And you can be or do whatever you want. But, pinkie promise you'll always remember how you got there? What does Tony always say?"

"Dum-E, I'll send ya t'communtee coll'ge..." Clint replies as James doesn't even attempt to smother his laugh.

"Not that one. 'The only way I became Iron Man is the memories of what and who I was before I got there'. The only way you'll get gold is remembering what it was like to get bronze and silver first..."

"Phil, he's six..."

"James, Clint is very smart, aren't you bud? And I know how amazing you are, so keep that and prove it." Clint nods shakily before clutching onto my neck in a hug. James continues to send me a disbelieving look as we make our way onto the other side of Clint's tree house with the den area. At this rate Clint probably knows the Tower layout better than us with all his snooping and running around; he has been educated on all emergency situations from day 1 because that's why he's here, to be safe and cared for and loved.

Every time I walk into Clint's room it still stuns me to look at this magnificent piece of art (as there's no other word that's near acceptable) that Tony created overnight for this homeless little boy to learn and grow and live in. The separated 'trunk' of the design includes bookcases and hiding places. The 'branches' extend out into boardwalks, nets and a trampoline for Clint's gymnastics. The 'house' is a work station with a desk and more storage space. A 'bird's nest' extended from the 'house' is Clint's bed with a direct eye-line to the stars and sky above, although he spends half the night with James and I due to nightmares. I know Tony had to knock out at least half of another floor for the 'tree house' to fit, but even the areas below are geniusly laid out to include storage spaces, den areas and workstations. It's remarkable and I don't think I truly understood the level of Tony's abilities until I saw him design and create this over two nights. I always knew how life-changing the arc-reactor was but I am not a scientist but I do have a background in DIY and architecture from somewhere or other; I can feel this. And it is extraordinary.

"Uhhh! Phil! This soup is /amazing/." James moans almost lewdly next to me on the sofa in Clint's den as Clint chows down on his PB & J sandwich between us.

"You're welcome."

"Thank you, Phil... Do I have to get hearin' aids like Cecil 'n Spy Kids 4? Or do I getta be like Phil n' his 'Venger's head-set?" Clint asks out of the blue. We had informed him of his deafness and hearing aids but he's six and just shrugged his shoulders so we didn't push him. Maybe he was trying to work it out in his own mind what it meant, what it was, how to live with it; and we have been educating him on the best kid's films over the years (I am a spy agent so he had to watch spy kids, /obviously/).

"I dunno, buddy. I thought Cecil was really cool with his hearing aids, cracking codes and stuff. And I /know/ Phil is awesome on his headset to us, but that might be a bit big for your little head. It's up to you, Clint." James casually responds, knowing not to make a big deal out of Clint's decision.

"And you know if you don't want them then you don't need them right now. As long as you can understand us." Clint nods as he finishes his land bite of sandwich.

"'Kay. Can we learn secret lang'age?"

"Like sign language; talking with your hands?" I suggest, overjoyed at any chance to teach Clint something new and share something between our family.

"Yeah! Can we do that?" Clint asks hopefully looking at both James and I.

"I would love to learn our secret sign language with you Clint. I'm pretty sure Phil already knows some too." James does love a challenge, and Clint.

"Cool!"

"I do know quite a bit. But I'm sure we could add in lots of our own secret signs. Like 'little bird' and 'Max' and 'pretty soldier'..." I signed as well as talked out the hand signals and letters.

"What a charmer!" James laughs and kisses my cheek as Clint giggles in between us and Max jumps up to lick our faces from his position on the floor.


	5. 161 Days : 07 Hours : 13 Minutes

"NOBODY MOVE!" I shout as I lead SHIELD Agents through the crumbling field area with half-loaded circus trucks and tents.

[Sir, Sword and Arrow are missing. Sector 2 clear.]

[No sign of Sword or Arrow. Sector 5 clear.]

[Sector 1 clear. No Sword or Arrow sir.]

[Sector 4 empty sir.]

[Sector 3 cleared sir. No sign.]

Dammit! Barton and Duquesne are gone. At least we've got the rest of the bastards.

"Phil?" I change channels to James' private channel from my liaison office at the Tower.

"Gone. They're not here. Keep Clint in sight, we don't know what they'll want."

"We'll get'em, Phil. You'll get'em."

"Just not soon enough. I've got to go. I'll be home in three hours. Over and out."

"See you soon babe. Pretty Soldier out." I feel James' hope and his grin through my comm. It has the deft ability to warm me up in this wet, sunken field amongst criminals and subordinates.

"Clear the area of any persons and throw them in lock-up. I'll want any and all reports on my desk by 10am. Goodnight and thank you." I walk away from the scene in my mucked tactical suit, stewing in anger over the still-present threat to Clint and my family but the thought of getting home to them keeps my insecurities at bay.

"Hey, babe. There's some lasagne left over from dinner in the frid-" James starts speaking quietly as soon as I open the door from his position on the couch, only to stop all of a sudden.

"What?" I look at myself in the mirror to see the stains of dirt on my brow and my less than neat appearance. "Uhhh. I'm a mes-"

James obviously disagrees with me regarding my attire as he is single-handedly trying to swallow my tongue.

I moan into his mouth as he walks me back into the wall next to the mirror. His hands seem to be everywhere; in my hair, on my hips, grasping at my biceps through the tac-suit.

"Hey..." James says in his sexy, broken voice with his kiss-bruised lips.

"Hey, honey." I smile at him with a slither of space between our mouths which I instantly close and walk him into our bedroom.

Most nights, we get to around 2am before Clint has a nightmare and we have to get up. It's already 12:45am.

"Food?" James mumbles as I shove him onto our bed, stripping my boots and shirt.

"...Can wait. You started this. You - Uhhh... End it." I groan as he bites and licks at my stomach; sending glorious shivers through me with his cool metal hand.

"You're so fuckin' hot 'n s'tac'suit" James continues to mumble as we land unceremoniously on top of each other naked. I grin.

"Why don't you show me how hot I am?" I ask lewdly, laying on my back, arm behind my head, hand stroking my member lazily.

"Oh fuck. /Phil/." James growls as he kisses me dirtily, moving down my neck.

I pass him the lube from the dresser on his way down.

He covers me in soft kisses as he works me open thoroughly with his flesh hand.

"Ohh, /Bucky/." I keen as he hits my prostate.

"You're so gorgeous baby. I can't believe anyone can be- ah- professional with you in that suit. Any suit. Ahh. Oh god. Phil."

He whispers into my ear, nibbling on my lobe as he fills me up.

"Move, Buck. Please, honey." I hadn't noticed, but James told me that I only ever call him Bucky during times of extreme emotion e.g. Sex.

"Anything for you babe." He grins as he slowly rocks into me and then sets a punishing rhythm, relentlessly nudging my prostate at every stroke. James then proceeds to fondle my untouched dick between our stomachs in the shocking contrast of cold metal on steamed skin.

Everything seems to come to a building stand-still as my vision flashes white and James falters in his rhythm, coming in sync.

Once my breath returns, I check the alarm clock. It's 1:30am. I've got time for a quick shower and some lasagne before Clint arrives for some comfort from the terrors.

"Shower n' food n' Clint?" James mumbles from his place atop of me into my neck.

"Yeah... Thanks. I needed that."

"Phil. We'll get'em. No one is gonna take him away from us." James reassures me and takes hold of my face in his palms, kissing me with every ounce of hope and- love? - He has.

We still haven't had a first date, so we can't exactly be mannerly and wait for the third so we decided to move on at our own pace. Because, have you /met/ James Barnes?

"Oh, tac-suit, no." Clint frowns at the huge stains of green paint on the back of my suit from last night.

"Thanks for the warning about the paint!?" I whisper-shouted at James as we sat up in bed watching Clint poke at the paint stains.

"Sorry! You came in looking all edible and I forgot Clint and I'd just finished painting the living room!" James whisper-shouted back. We had been working as a team to choose furniture and decorations for some rooms in the apartment. Including repainting.

"I made a sign 'bout the paint, Phil. M'sorry..." Clint sniffed as he put the clothes in our bedroom hamper.

"Hey, Clint. It was not your fault ace. It was mine; I was very silly and did not read your sign. And James was very silly about letting me lean on the wall. It was not your fault and it will wash out. Okay?" I reassured Clint as I crouched beside the bed next to him. Sometimes he just needs a little encouragement to keep on track of learning to trust and to understand not everything is his fault. In those times Bruce made it clear to talk to him calmly and clearly, for no misunderstandings. I opened my arms for a hug and he immediately launched onto my torso.

"'Kay."

"Hey, Clint. 'Member what day it is?" James nudged at him from the foot of the bed, hoping to alleviate the atmosphere. Clint had a rough night, he couldn't get to sleep for a longer time than usual last night. I feared it was because it was my first time leaving him for most of the day.

"No..."

"Come on! Yes ya do. It's Sunday!" Clint immediately perked up at the realisation.

"WORK DAY! We goin' t'work Phil!?" Clint jumped up and down with excitement.

"Yep. I've got 47 reports to examine, 3 agents to reprimand and 1 furious Fury... You up for it Agent Barton?"

"Yes! Work day!" Clint shouted as he bolted down the corridor to his room to get his 'Phil suit'.

Ever since I returned to work, every Sunday I'd take Clint with me for a half day because the Avengers had 'Team Building' and I didn't trust anyone else with Clint yet. He was so excited to get to be a 'secret agent' in his 'Phil suit' and sunglasses and badge to boot.

Clint has since perfected his Agent Coulson face and loves to walk around deck with Marcus. Marcus loves it, and he even admits it.

"Agent Mitchell, do we need to discuss Galaga again or do you want to keep every penny you've ever owned in the bank?!" Fury barked from his position at the front of the Helicarrier.

Clint and I raise twin eyebrows at him in intrigue or disdain or pride (not many could tell).

"Nobody plays /my/ game on /my/ ship." Marcus informs us as he steps aside towards the two of us.

"Of course, sir."

"Yessir." Clint agrees.

"Coulson. Barton." Marcus greets us and proceeds to grin at Clint before hefting him onto his shoulders.

Clint tries his damnedest not to laugh but his giggles overcome him before he resorts back to Agent mode with...

"I di'not activily 'gree t'this course f'action."

"You're my hands, boy. You don't have to agree with me. Like Phil's my good eye; I tell him were t'look an'he'll look."

"Yessir." We simultaneously answer as Clint smiles radiantly from his new view.

"Can I be Agen' Coulson some day?"

"No-"

"Absolutely!"

"Sir!"

"Phil!"

"Phil?" Clint breaks our stern looks with his sorrow filled question.

"Hmmph... I always said for you to do what you want. If you want to be ... 'Agent Barton of SHIELD', that's up to you." I huffed in displeasure.

"I don'wanna be Agen' Barton. Can't I be Coulson?" Clint questioned thoughtfully.

Marcus and I shared a look. James wasn't here. I couldn't just say 'sure'. James was Clint's... Guardian too. He's never brought this up before. Marcus just shrugged. Very helpful, sir.

"I don't know, ace. What about Barnes? Why don't we think about it and talk to James and we'll all decide as a team. Huh?"

"'Kay." Clint agreed and hurried the conversation along, back to his precocious self.

"What's in there?" He asked while pointing at a triple locked door.

"That's the records room. And our main control area for all the computers." Marcus answered, walking past the door.

"Only Level sevens get in there." I added.

"R'you Lev'l sev'n, Phil?"

"I am." I smiled at Clint's awe.

"Cool!"

"He's /very/ cool. Phil here is in charge of everything after me." Marcus boasted to Clint. Even after everything, I'm so glad he still trusts me and helps me with the important things.


	6. 125 Days : 23 Hours : 38 Minutes

"Phil. Phil! /Agent Coulson/." Natasha raised her voice urgently until my gaze finally snapped towards hers.

"Romanoff... Nat-"

"Phil. Tony's got Clint. He's scared. He wants to see you... He /needs/ you." I nod shakily as I stand frozen in front of the doors towards the emergency room in the nearest hospital to the scene. I never even noticed which one it was.

"Phil!" Clint shouts as he runs towards me through the swinging doors of the waiting area and past Tony and Nat. I finally break... collapsing onto my knees clutching at Clint desperately in my arms.

"What happen'd? Uncle Tony took me outta school before recess. Where's James?" Clint whimpered as I kept hugging him while my breathing hitched at the mention of my partner.

After another moment to steady myself I stood up.

"C'mere." I motioned Clint to the nearby chairs and lifted him into my lap. I took another moment to just capture how he looked. His sandy hair was spiked just like James did it for him this morning, mere hours ago, if not a little matted on one side from Clint leaning on his hand while he works. His naturally tanned skin was pale with bad weather and harsh lighting. We'd decided to send him off to school in early September with a few well-placed agents to keep an eye out for Barney and Jacques. He'd decided to wear his red faded t-shirt today with his black jeans because they were "Wade's fav'rites an' Wade s'gonna wear purple", Clint's favourite colour; Wade being Clint's new best friend. Wade Wilson had some learning disabilities and a few disfigurations from birth that actually looked like old scars but the two boys were inseparable and their teacher had told us of their shared learning experiences. It was amazing to see Clint fit in so well. And Tony helped us find Mid-Town Elementary School, even the Richards' sent Franklin and Valeria there (although that was one of Tony's reasons against it) as well as Peter Parker, Luke Cage and Ororo Munroe who shared Clint's background.

I glanced up to see Nat and Tony arguing in harsh whispers while Tony was still holding Clint's Avengers' backpack. Clint's curiously worried blue eyes shot straight through me as I cleared my throat to remove the ball rising in it.

"Clint. James was fighting... All the Avengers were fighting very hard against some of Dr Doom's robots... We couldn't find the leader and- and we were almost finished and James went down. He got hurt pretty bad. He's in surgery now to take the bullets out..." Phil coughed again to rid the roughness from his throat as flashes of James' bloody body slammed through his mind.

"He's... James' s'gonna be okay. Right? Robots're stupid an' dumb an' James'll beat'em all up." Clint states assuredly. I almost chuckled at his will power.

"We've got the best Doctors in there with him. He's... We'll be okay, ace." I nod shakily once more, clutching at Clint to bring him closer to my chest.

"-wasn't the Doom bots and you know it!"

"-doesn't matter-"

"-like hell-"

"-right now-"

"-it does matter!"

"-we can figure-"

"-we need to-"

"-later-"

"-now!"

I blink my eyes open steadily to see Nat and Tony still arguing it out in the chairs opposite me. The pale blue and white walls in the cubed room make my eyes sting and my head tighten.

"What is it? Any news?... How long-" I mumble.

"It's nothing right now. He's still in there, you were out for an hour. The Doctors say the surgery for the bullets could take from 7-10 hours with their lodgements and his healing factor disrupting the process. Clint's still asleep. Tony's going to look at and file our reports for you. Everyone else is either getting food, talking with Fury or annoying hospital staff." Natasha informed me swiftly. With her side eye towards Tony and his abrupt leaving, I knew that whatever that argument was about is important and certainly going to give me either a migraine or a heart attack later.

Clint snores softly in his sleep, his hair is a complete mess now, James won't be pleased... I shake my head slightly to keep from thinking if James will ever fix Clint's hair again. Or complain about Max's diet. Or give me that fond exasperated look. Or teach Clint to drive. Or... Take me on a first date. We /still/ haven't got around to it yet. The pain lances straight through me with that thought and the tears become too much and my heart slams and Clint mumbles with a nightmare approaching and... And... And-

"/Phil. /" Natasha grabs my forearm. Reminding me to breathe. I gasp a shuddering breathe and pinch at my nose while Clint stumbles awake.

Clint must sense my pain as he immediately wraps around my neck and says, "Lil' bird hugs make everythin' bett'r. James says so." And that makes everything seem okay again even if it's just for a minute. I chuckle softly. And Clint holds me tighter and Natasha releases my arm.

All of the team have gathered together to wait for the final hours in the waiting area. After eight and a half hours the Doctors begin to emerge from the room.

"Agent Coulson." A salt and peppered haired man steps forward from the crowd, he's about my age with less wrinkles and more tan.

"That's me." I step closer with Clint on my hip. I don't know if he should be with me for this but he deserves the truth.

"Sergeant Barnes is stabilised. We were able to remove all the bullet fragments from his left shoulder, his torso and his right thigh. Six in total. The shrapnel was making it hard for his serum to kick in which was good for us until it started to move the shrapnel closer to vital organs and arteries in an attempt to remove them. They were cop killer bullets; we sent them off to Mr Stark's labs for inspection. We were able to stop any bleeds and stitch up the few gaps. He will need rest and will be able to wake within the hour as soon as the anaesthesia wears off."

"/ Thank you. /" I smile in relief as I shake the Doctor's hand and wait for the nurse to lead me to James' room.

"James' okay?" Clint asks, smiling hopefully.

"He's fine buddy. He's going to be fine." I answer as I hug him again while the team cheer from behind.

Then it hits me.

"Nat." I say as Natasha nods towards Tony and Steve who no longer are overjoyed but cautious in their stance. Even Bruce has decided to leave to discuss things with the surgeons.

"Thor. Would you mind getting Clint something to eat? I'll meet you guys in James' room as soon as I'm done." I kiss Clint's head and he walks off with Thor's hand in his out the swinging doors.

"Of course Son of Coul. Come along young Clint." Thor bellows as they follow Bruce through the doors.

I wait for silence before I begin.

"What did you find?"

"Agent Coulson, the bullets taken from Bucky did not match the bullets from the surrounding areas or the Doom Bots themselves. We are still searching for striation matches with JARVIS' help and we have yet to identify the liquid from the shooter's perch." Steve steps forward and informs me.

"Someone was sent to kill or injure Sergeant Barnes" Natasha concluded.

"That someone is an idiot with a tricky shot." Tony snarled.

"They will be caught and they will be stopped. Whatever it takes... There's more at stake here than ever before." I warn them gravely, fighting the acid rising from my stomach in the wrenching thought that there's another person after my family. I was right. I might just have both a migraine and a heart-attack.

"Absolutely, Sir."

"Yessir."

"Consider it done."

"Phil..." James rasps as I finally enter his hospital room on the cleared floor of rooms.

"/James/..." I gasp, overwhelmed, as I rush over, kissing him on the lips, feeling his breathe, his life. "Please... Pinkie promise me you'll try very, very hard not to get shot again... Please." I plead only half joking. He chuckles anyway, clutching at my pinkie in a vain attempt to try.

"Hey, bud c'mere." James waves Clint on to move from the visitors chair to the bed. James wraps an arm around his waist as I sigh in relief.

"Actually, I just got a call before I came in. Somehow, they chose today to pass on and sign our adoption forms for Clint. We are legally your guardians, ace. Or should I call you Clint Barnes-Coulson?" I grin at their shocked faces.

"What?!"

"Yay!"

"Well, there's always a silver lining, right? Although that's no reason to tempt fate again, honey." My smile softens as I place a kiss onto James' cheek and Clint's head. James finally calms enough to laugh giddily and smack a wet kiss to my lips before tickling Clint into admitting James is his favourite; only to say he crossed his fingers, and to then continue.

As the rest of the team pile in to check on Bucky, all the worries are pushed to the back of my mind to leave room for these memories but they're still there, waiting to be removed.

Or grow.


	7. 79 Days : 17 Hours : 16 Minutes

"Phil?" Clint asked from his seat at the kitchen island as I continued to cook our breakfast pancakes.

"Yes?"

"Are me'n'Steve'n'James gonna go ta baseball still?" He asked while fiddling with his cuddly purple bird - Lucky.

"Sorry, ace. James still isn't one hundred but Steve promised he would still take you. Why don't you run upstairs and ask him?"

"Really?! Won' James be sad though..." Clint furrowed his brow.

"He will be upset that he can't take you this time but there's always next time and he would want you to go and have a good time with Uncle Steve." I reassured him; he used to ask if we would get 'mad' if he did something without us, now it's 'sad'. He's still learning that we won't get angry at every little thing but it's getting better. Thank the Gods.

"Okay. I'll bring 'im somethin' home."

"That's very kind of you. Now go check with Steve and I'll bring James his breakfast." I chuckled as he jumped off the stool and bolted towards the stairs while talking to JARVIS.

"S'Clint?" James mumbled vaguely into the pillow on our bed.

"I told him to go upstairs and check with Steve about the baseball game."

"Hmmm... Can' I jus' go and spend some time with my- Clint. Stupid fuckin' villains; ruinin' my fun..." James groaned as he turned over to face me in the bed and I laid the breakfast tray on his lap.

"You can always go next time, and it'll be nice for Steve to have some time with him. Plus Clint said he'd bring you something back?" I tried to reason with the grumpy man without reading too much into his slip up in Clint's 'label'.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks for breakfast... What are you wearing?!" James almost choked on his pancake as he fully scoped me.

"Uh... Pyjamas?"

"Uh... /my/ pyjamas?"

"I borrowed your t-shirt. Sorry?"

"Uhhh! Phil you're killing me!" He pouted as he gripped his t-shirt on my torso.

"What? I can't wear anything vaguely 'sexy' around you, can I? I mean, last week it was my glasses!" I laughed as James continued to groan at the memory.

"Phil, babe, you don't realise how ridiculously sexy you are. Seriously. It /pains/ me some days." James smiled softly at my blush and proceeded to kiss my cheeks, forehead and nose.

"Uh. Thank you." I smiled back as I lay back beside him on the bed.

"Phil? James?" Clint tentatively knocked on the door before running right in and jumping on my lap.

"Hey buddy! I'm so sorry I can' go with ya ta the game. Are still gonna go with Steve?" James scrubbed a hand through Clint's cropped hair.

"I's'okay. Steve says we're goin'n hour."

"And when is that?" I asked showing him my watch so he can read the hands. He's excelling in his maths and knowledge skills so we're trying to continue his learning at home.

"One...two… three... One eighteen!"

"Great job ace!"

"How's your ribs James?" Clint inquired, keeping a close eye on the bandages stretching across James' torso and shoulder, the flesh one while the metal one is marked with scratches and dents.

"I'm okay bud. Just a bit stiff n' sore. I'll be back to top form by the end of the week." James smiled softly, ruffling Clint's hair and kissing his head.

"Why don't you go get washed and ready Clint and then we can take Max for a quick walk before you go?"

"Okay!" Clint bounced off of my lap and down the corridor while shouting his thanks.

"I better get changed. Eat your food and maybe you might get a treat when I get back?" I smirked while kissing James cheek.

"You're treat enough baby." James courted.

"Cheeseball."

"You love it."

"I /do/ love you..."

"I-I love you too, Phil"

That's when I realised what had tumbled out of my mouth. Oh shit. Was that too soon? We have a kid and live together... What the hell was /too soon/ anymore! I pulled my clean band t-shirt over my head completely and swivelled to observe James.

He had somehow managed to shift his way from the top of the bed to near-standing position at the end of it, right in front of me.

"You can take it back?"

"Was that okay?" We both asked simultaneously. We laughed as I lunged for James carefully avoiding his bruises and I slid onto his lap. Our kiss was searing, every touch sizzled with something new, something secret but finally revealed. His tongue battled mine until I ended up nipping at his bottom lip and he sucked on my tongue. As I ran my hands through his messy bed head, Max began to bark and Clint roared with laughter at something or other; stopping us.

"I love you."

"Love you too baby." We both whispered hoarsely, smiling like lunatics at each other.

"James, I'm back!"

"Hey! Im still in bed!"

I made my way towards our bedroom once I unleashed Max and hung up my jacket and his harness.

"You ready for your treat?" I asked quietly as I climbed onto the bed next to my injured lover.

"Ready and waiting baby…" James slurred sleepily, placing open-mouthed kisses on my neck.

"Are you sure you're okay? We can always just lie down for a bit, I know how sore you are and I don't want to hurt you anymore than you already are…" I questioned as I swept a gentle hand through his hair.

"Phil, you could never hurt me. I'm just a little stiff…"

"Well there's a couple of things I could do to fix that…" I smirked at James exaggerated groans.

"You are cheesier than Tony's homemade garlic bread!" We laughed together before James groaned in pain once more with his hand clutched at his ribs.

"Hold on. I do have an idea that might actually help. Take off your shirt and I'll be back in a minute…" I could hear James do as I instructed while I rummaged through our shared bathroom. After finally locating the hamper of lotions Tony had left as a present, I made my way back into the darkened room. Thank you, JARVIS.

"What now?" James whispered as if the tiniest thing could offset the newfound peace.

"Roll onto your stomach for me," I told him once I'd finished laying down a towel across the mid-section of the king size bed.

"Is this the part where you tell me to just relax?" James sniggered as he got comfortable.

"Exactly… Lavender or Vanilla?"

"Lavender."

"Just before you say anything, I did take a course on this due to an undercover operation so try not to worry…" I smiled to myself as James sunk further into the mattress.

I warmed the lotion between my newly bare thighs, not wanting to ruin a nice pair of jeans or t-shirt but also being unable to help myself to some peaceful skin-on-skin time with James, I stripped to my boxers and kneeled by his feet near the end of the bed. With my hands thoroughly covered I started to massage the soles of James feet. With each deeply covered and James' soft groans increasing in both length and loudness, I moved onto his calves and then his thighs as I moved to straddle his legs.

"You okay?"

"Uhhh… don't ever stop…"

I smiled once more as I kissed my way up his sculpted back while applying more lotion, spending more time and care near his ribs and shoulders. Once I reached his neck and sucked soft kisses onto his neck James' moans became more pronounced and desperate.

"Turn over for me, honey," I whispered delicately into one ear before moving myself back to allow James to roll over, giving me the perfect view as to why his moans have become so wanton.

I still proceed to take my time in caressing and massaging his beautiful arms and strong hands and he lets me because this is what he needs and we have plenty of time for the more vigorous activity we know is inevitably coming.

"Oh, Phil, please…" James whimpers hoarsely as I make my way back to kissing down his chest, suckling on each nipple, licking at each bruise before I finally finish at the stretched waistband of his boxers, his obvious excitement straining them.

Without another word, I shuffle them off of his smooth body and lap at his inner thighs before licking a stripe up his leaking dick. It jumps and he groans softly, the massage not allowing for a more demanding protest in his jelly-like state. I continue my loving touches, kissing the head, kitten-licking his slit before swallowing his member whole, inch by inch. Hi body jerks into my tight heat but I leave room for it and rest my hands on his muscular hip bones before beginning to bob my head. With every other bob, I build up his pleasure, sucking at the head, pressing at his hips, grazing my teeth along the vein. The tiny whispers of pleading and my name become hoarser and straining as James struggles to speak through the atmosphere of intensity and love. I do love him, with every bit of myself that's not taken by our son and our family.

As I once more swallow him down, feeling him tighten, I swallow three times around his thick member, loving every little sound and taste as James squeaks out a high pitched noise which may or may not have been my name. But the look of pure love in his eyes as he orgasms is enough to remind me of my own problem and as I thoroughly work him through his pleasure, a couple of strokes as me releasing into my own boxers before collapsing onto the bed next to a passed out James. I can barely hear and "I love you" before the fuzzy hand of sleep takes me away.

"JAMES, JAMES, JAMES!" Clint ran through the front door horror followed by me as I waved goodbye and thanked Steve.

"WHAT, WHAT, WHAT?" James answered equally loud and excited from the couch.

"Here!" Clint handed him the signed, winning ball from the game. Somehow Clint managed to catch it and Steve asked for it to be signed for 'Clint's Dad who was injured at home'.

"Holy sh-moley! Thanks buddy! Great catch!" James gathered a grinning Clint into his arms for a hug.

I laughed at them as I shoved them over to make room for myself on the couch beside them.

"Steve told the baseball player James was my... My Dad..." Clint mentioned after we settled down for the evening.

"Well, he meant that James takes care of you, James and I are your guardians, and we are responsible for you. That's all he meant by it ace..." I tried to answer as best I could but I knew even James and I were unsure as to what to call Clint.

"What m'I suppos'd t'call you?" Clint twiddled Lucky's wings.

"Well it's up to you... You can call us Uncle Phil and Uncle James or your guardians or D-Dad or..."

"What about just Phil 'n' James?" Clint furrowed his brow at me again.

"If that's what you want, then, yeah." James tuned in from his surprised silence.

"'Kay." Clint sighed and relaxed.

"Okay?" I questioned tensely.

"Yep." Clint returned.

"Yeahhh." James squared me with a strange look before we just shrugged our shoulders and returned to yet another Disney film.


	8. 45 Days : 10 Hours : 21 Minutes

My job was hectic. Not as hectic as James' could get but they were both pretty crazy. With this in mind, we scheduled our weeks accordingly; leaving elasticity for major incidents and invasions.

We always made sure that there was at least two Avengers free or trusted friends to watch over or collect Clint.

Generally our weeks ended up like this:-

Everyone awake by 7:20am, which generally means me rising just before the alarm and lovingly tossing James out of the bed to make breakfast because no one - not even Steve - can make classic waffles like James does.

Family breakfast in the common kitchen, or whoever has work and decided to come down - generally Tony and Bruce never went to bed the night before so I can't technically say they're 'waking up'.

I feed Max, and James double-checks Clint for school so I can leave him in for 8am.

I head to the office after leaving him to school and James hits the training gym at the Tower with Steve. James tries to train, learn and practice during the mornings so he can do paperwork and non-active 'garbage' when Clint's doing his homework.

James then collects Clint at 2:30pm, he and Bruce help Clint with his homework because even James needs some help on recent educational developments.

I arrive home at 5pm usually if not a little later due to briefings and late mission returns.

We have team dinner at 7pm normally including the whole team as long as there's no major incidents or missions or Asgardian family reunions.

Family bonding after dinner consists of either a movie, board games, training or even dog walking - although with a Tower this size Max wouldn't even need to go outside for a healthy five mile walk.

Clint's in bed by 9pm with little to no problems, his nightmares have dwindled to nearly once every other week which is a very positive step.

Lastly, paperwork and last minute scheduling is squeezed in before bedtime.

The rest of the week continues like this with occasional changes such as Martial Arts and Dance with Natasha after homework on Tuesdays and Thursdays, After-School Club Wednesdays and Fridays at the Tower within the nursery for employees Tony had set up years before- when we have team meetings and weekend clean-up briefings. Weekends were precious in their openness and availability unless operations or missions were underway.

Our life was taking shape. Our future was scheduled and organised and protected.

Until it wasn't...

But that's not for me to tell now. Not yet.

Now is me worrying over James and I's first date; again.

But of course it doesn't happen... Again.

"Phil!" James slams through the door with Max clutched in his arms, sweating from both panic and exertion.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I leapt into action from in front of the mirror, shirt half buttoned from finishing getting ready, and helped James set the dog down onto the cushioned carpet.

"He's breathing funny and... And his stomach is doing this weird thing and..."

"Okay. Take a deep breath. JARVIS run a scan for obstructions within Max's system and his vitals. I'm calling the vet out. Keep an eye on him." James nods, still not taking his eyes off the German Shepard that helped bring our family together as I ran towards my phone.

"Agent Coulson, Max seems to have swallowed an object of some sort, I shall send the scans to the vet who has been confirmed as to be 5.78 minutes from arrival. I have notified Captain Rodgers and Agent Romanoff to the situation and they are currently on route to Master Clint who is in the workshop with Sir to distract him from worrying."

"Thank you, JARVIS." I reply as I settle back down again next to James once I finished on the phone with the nearest vet on-call as we try to sooth Max from his whimpering.

"It's okay boy. You'll be okay. Just stay calm..."

"Phil, he's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yes. He'll be fine. It's a small obstruction. What happened?" I spoke softly, hiding my own nerves as I held tightly to James' hand.

"He- We were walking in the park and he chased after something. When I caught up he was collapsed under a bush with this weird breathing. I ran home..."

We were interrupted by the vet entering the wide open door from James' panicked entry.

"Hi, my name is Allison. Okay, what's this beautiful boy's name?"

"Max. He swallowed something at the park. You've gotta help him..." James quivered and I righted my hold on his hand once more.

"I've had a look at his scans thanks to your assistant..."

"He's an AI."

"Right, of course... It's a minimal obstruction but its position is causing this laboured breathing. It also seems that he'll need surgery to remove it. I have the jeep downstairs if you want to bring him down and we'll get him checked in. You may stay at the surgery if you want but it'll take a few hours and then he'll have to stay the night for observation."

"Thank you so much. We'll take him down for you. Would you mind keeping us up to date on his condition?" I ask as we take a shared deep breath and say our goodbyes to Max before James carries him carefully back down to the Vet's jeep.

"I swear to God we're cursed."

"At least Clint's okay."

"Jesus! Don't jinx it!" James clapped a hand over my mouth as I chuckled at his wide eyes look.

"Max got through surgery just fine, Clint understood that Max would be home tomorrow and everyone else is healthy. Our first date may keep being put off but I don't need a 'night out on the town' to know I love you." I hummed as I held James' hand to my heart as we lay back in bed.

"Yeah, okay. I love you too. But I still promise to take you out just the two of us."

"Pinkie promise?" I wink at James as he rolls his eyes.

"Shuddup you goofball."

I belly laugh in utter contentment before I reel James in for a kiss that's just as loud and sloppy between our laughing.


	9. 00 Days : 00 Hours : 00 Minutes

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long but life has been so crazy! Although I did update some of the previous chapters last week, fixing mistakes and adding a scene I forgot in Chapter 7, so check that out if you already haven't. (BTW can anyone find the not so subtle link to another fandom link with Phil's family? – Clue – 'K')**

It's been six months since my life was irreparably changed for the better. Six months and I have a child, a pet, a partner, a home… a family. A genuine, no conditions apply, loving family. I don't think I ever had that; my own father only truly respected me after I joined the army, following in his footsteps. My mother died when I was ten and that's probably why my dad never talked to me much and why he decided to join a reclusive government agency pretty much full time. I suppose I never got over it myself since I did exactly what he did with that too. Jeez. What a fantastic time to have such a depressing epiphany…

"Y'ready yet, Phil?" Clint's voice echoed from the bedroom as I checked myself once more in the bathroom mirror, erasing all therapy-worthy thoughts of my family before heading back out to him.

"Yep. What do you think?" I asked genuinely nervous as to his answer. I tried not to put too much effort into the perfect suit as each time I have it's been pretty much ruined by some interruption, so this time I've gone casual with some items of clothing I know James loves. I decided on the faded Cap shirt he saw me in the day he met Clint, some comfortable black jeans, James' leather jacket and a pair of sneakers.

"Y'look awesome!" He grinned and Max yipped beside him on our bed.

"Thank you. Glasses or no glasses?"

"Glasses! James says that you look 'edibibble' in glasses," Clint nods as I try to contain my snort and blush, unsuccessfully, at James' words.

"Edible." James corrects from the doorway to the room as he grins almost feral at me.

"Whazat mean?" Clint asks as James devours me with his eyes.

"Nothing you need to understand just yet, I believe," I add before James tries to explain it.

"Ha! You look beautiful by the way." James smile softens to one of blinding love as I duck my head to hide the blush that comes back full force.

"Beautiful? I don't know about that but you are incredibly handsome this evening," I smile back as he makes his way over to me, nudging a hand over Clint's eyes before he kisses me slowly, dipping his tongue into my mouth and just as I feel my knees about to give out he wraps an arm around my waist and Clint lets out a noise somewhere between a giggle and disgust. He does look as handsome as ever in his dark wash jeans, dark blue button up, my black tie, some boots and another of his leather jackets.

"You always look beautiful to me, baby. And my jacket? Nice touch… Damn." James whispered in my ear, his voice rough with arousal.

"Thank you. My tie? Nice touch yourself, honey." I replied as his cheeks tinted a pretty pink.

"Ughh! You're not even out of the bedroom yet and you're all sex-"

"Tony! How nice of you to look after Clint tonight!" I interrupted the supposed genius' unsavoury sentence.

"No problem Agent Agent, Rusty. Legolas and I have lots of fun!"

"Wow, why is he our Plan A?" James laughs as we step apart a little.

"Because we have no other immediate option, it was his idea, and Plans B through G just get better. Don't jinx it." I justify as James gives me an incredulous look as Tony complains and Clint just laughs from new his position on Tony's back.

"Well?! Get a move on! You have a first date to have!" Tony groans as he tries to shove us through the apartment.

"Stark! Let us say goodbye to Clint, please." I stand my ground as Tony concedes and lets him down to hug us goodbye.

"Stay safe, bud. You know all the numbers and drills and we're just two blocks away okay?" James reassures himself.

"Yep! Have a nice date James." Clint says into his neck as he squishes him into a tight hug before he leeches onto me next.

"Treat 'im right, Phil." Clint adds.

"Hahaha! I will ace. Love ya." I kiss his head before nudging him back over to Tony.

"Have a great time! I know we will!" Tony winks before the elevator doors slide shut and James and I cringe in fear as to what may become of Clint left in Tony's care.

Our first date. It's actually happening. No call-outs. No pet emergencies. No kid emergencies. No SHIELD emergencies. Although I suppose pretty much anyone who could cause or call those emergencies in are in on this plan to allow James and I a single date in this relationship.

We do actually have Plans A through G with babysitters for Clint, ranging from Tony right to Marcus. Plans A through K for the actual date. Plans A through N for SHIELD. Plans A through Z for call outs. This is happening. We're having a date and it's… perfect.

We'd booked into 10 different restaurants just in case, the first worked out just fine though. Our favourite little American diner where James enjoys the glimpses memories he can surmise and I enjoy the fatty foods and delicious coffee. We're seated opposite each other in a booth near the end of the restaurant, barely anyone surrounds us as it's a Wednesday night (a generally quiet night both on the villain and business front).

James eyes sparkle in the ostentatious lighting even though he's obviously, to me anyway, been nervous about something since we sat down. He's been playing with the sleeve of my, his, jacket and my wrist since our coffees arrived but his smile hasn't ever wavered so I decide not to bother him about it until he tells me himself or it starts to actually worry me.

"We did it." His voice startles me from my ponderings.

"Hm?"

"We had our first date. What d'ya think, is there a second on the cards?" He grins as I entwine our hands confidently.

"I'd say we'll have to see if my friends approve and such but, my friends are your friends, so I'll say definitely." I smile even wider, if that's possible, when he squeezes my hand tighter and leans in to plant a chaste kiss on my lips, not wanting to draw to much attention to ourselves.

"Hey, Phil."

"Hey, James." I grin back at my adorably nervous doof of a partner

"I love you. So much, you know that right?"

"Of course, I love you too." I smile curiously at his serious expression, something niggling in my gut.

"And, I love Clint more than anything. Our family is the most important thing in the galaxy to me…"

"I know that. The same goes for me too." I squeeze his hand in reassurance as he takes a deep breath.

"Phillip J. Coulson. You are the man of my dreams and you've made my dreams come true. Would you do me the honour of making one last dream come true… and marry me?" James looks up as he finishes his sentence probably to catch my reaction. The shock on my face must sadden him because his already nervous smile falters.

"Holy fucking Odin…" All I can pay attention to his James full body laughter at my reaction.

"Is that a yes?" He wheezes, trying to contain the laughter.

"Yes it's a fucking YES!" I stand up to lean over the table and grab his face and plant a wet, loving kiss on him. Both our eyes twinkling with unshed tears and love. Unwanted attention be damned.

"I love you." We say simultaneously before an alarm wakes us from our reverie.

The alarm. Blasting from both of our phones. The one alarm that we never, ever wanted to hear. The one noise we dreaded having to hear. The one that tells us Clint is gone. His tracker disabled. He's no longer safe.

/Our son is gone. /


	10. 00 Days : 00 Hours : -17 Minutes

**Ahh! Please don't kill me for this! I really struggled trying to keep this in Phil's POV and it's my first time writing real action so sorry if it's a bit rough. Thanks for all the love you guys!**

Fuck! The reason Clint is gone is clear as soon as James and I catch our first glimpse of Avengers' Tower, running the relatively short (mentally long) two blocks back home.

The 'A' is out.

Goons everywhere.

No Avengers visible.

No Clint visible.

/Time to even the score…/

"Side?"

"Definitely."

"Duquesne?" James grinded out the name as if in pain from even mentioning it as we rounded the right hand side of the Tower quickly and quietly, to avoid immediate attack and establish a plan.

"Mine. You have Clint." /Dead. He's dead. Clint's ours. /

"Done… Phil?" James gripped my wrist before I released the latch towards our entrance.

"James?" I questioned him. /Wasting time. We're wasting time/. My mind's screaming at me constantly to get to Clint.

"Love you. Kill them. Be safe." He squeezes my arm and lets it go.

"I love you. Find Clint. Stay alive." We nod and it's 'Agent Coulson' and 'Sergeant Barnes' that enter Avengers' Tower. But it's always going to be Clint's guardians that slice the throat of the first goon with extreme prejudice, shoot the second threw the knee caps with his own gun, break the jaw and nose of the fifth and sixth guys before greeting Steve on the 35th floor who's lying trapped, surrounded by criminals, who range from the expendable right up to the infamous Jacques Duquesne.

James knows his mission. I can feel him scan the area and continue up the service stairs while I step out to confront my very own mission. Steve's fighting back as best he can against the 20 odd other men but something is weighing him down, holding him back, but I can't tell what. There's no sign of Tony, no JARVIS, no suits, and something that's really worrying; no Hulk. No time for that now, I can figure that out once I've dealt with the real problem in the room.

"Ahh! Agent… Coleman wazzit?"

"Coulson."

I can almost feel the wet smacks against Steve's body from my position metres away; the room is bathed in darkness with only the New York skyline as our guide but with some adjustment I can see Steve sans suit and shield. The room is a pit of ripped, overturned furniture, bruises, blood and glass. Seems as though Steve couldn't afford the silent entry James and I had for whatever reason. I try not to flinch, my readings are all over the place with emotions and a sickening feeling disrupting my gut.

"Right. Y'been takin' good care f'my lil' protégé, thanks," he smiles, all teeth, as he paces the length of the broken window, arms behind his back clutching an automatic weapon, "but it's home time f'lil' Barton. Right, Agent?" Steve's grunts get harsher from across the room as he drones on but with Duquesne in my way, I either rush him, lose him but help Steve immediately or waste time before putting a painful bullet somewhere, arresting him and then helping Steve. Sorry Steve, losing this bastard isn't an option. /Can't lose him. /

"I don't think so. He's perfectly fine here. And I would appreciate it if you could drop that weapon and raise your hands above your head. You've messed with the wrong family…" I speak calmly, assuredly while raising my own pistol to the Swordsman. Steve seemingly getting back on his feet after utilising a broken table leg to his advantage.

"Hahaha! Family? Don' think so. You're losin' Coulson! Ther's a snake n'the weeds n' all that. You're precious heroes r'down f'the count n' you ne'er e'en sawwit comin'. Trust me, you don' want th'boy, s'a clingy lil' thing but you'd know all 'bout that. Anyway, better b'going, don' want the 'Pretty Soldier' takin' s'anger out 'n me. See ya!" With that conclusion, James arrives back, charging straight for Duquesne with Steve's shield clasped in hand.

"NO!" I scream as both the Swordsman and James tumble out the open window, I slide right to the edge, over the scattered glass, just in time to see Duquesne caught by some sort of arrow mechanism 15 floors before the ground and pulled back in through a window while James continues hurtling towards earth.

I spin around, not wanting to watch my fiancé die, but also because Steve's hands are shoving me away from the open air, towards our previous entrance, back down the service stairs. I barely realise we're running, jumping and sliding our way towards the exit, towards Duquesne, over the rushing blood and whining in my ears.

We amble out the side door once more as several different vans speed away in different directions. We shoot at as many we can, tracers within the specially designed bullets.

There's no James. No Clint. No Tony. No Natasha. No sound of Thor nor Hulk. Captain America himself is limping and heaving breaths beside me. And I just stand there. Until I'm no longer standing, knees stinging on impact with the concrete. My vision blurred with what must be tears. I can't feel anything.

"-son. Coul-? Ph-! Phillip! Look at me, baby, please…" Someone caresses my cheeks, their rough fingers linger, familiar…

"J- James?" I look up swiftly, my lungs expanding in relief as his beautiful eyes enter view.

"Hey! Yeah! S'me. Need you to breathe with me. Y'havin' a littl' panic attack there babe. Fuck. Don't scare us like that!" He shakes me a little as his watery smile wavers and I feel the gun being removed from my shaking hand before I collapse into his chest.

"Though' y'were dead." James freezes at my admission in my arms.

"Never. Never leave you behind. You n' Clint." He squeezes me tighter in reassurance.

"Clint?!" My breathing picks up its pace once more at the thought of our son, our boy gone.

"No. M'sorry Phil. Couldn't get 'im. We're gonna get him back together. Promise…" I nod shakily, clutching harder at James as he returns the comforting gesture.

"C'mon, you're freakin' Stevie out. We need to go. We need to get cleaned up, find out where the hell everybody is and then we're going after our son. You got me?" I hear Steve chuckle weakly as I release James and we heft ourselves up, moving past the deathly fear that consumed me; there's no time for it now. We can cry and hold each other once we get our family back together. Then. Not now. Now it's time to fight. And /win/.


	11. 00 Days : 00 Hours : -43 Minutes

"Steve, what the hell happened?" James asked, his tone gravelly with adrenalin, fear and exhaustion from hauling myself and Steve back inside to, the usually safe, tower.

"Bastard," Fuck, if Steve's swearing, we're really in trouble, "Tony sent out the signal. I was just back from a VA meeting when the lights went out, JARVIS was online long enough to send out the signal but he never answered me once I reached the elevators. Tony… he and Clint were in the lab. Where is he? We need to make sure he's okay."

"I never saw 'im up there Stevie…" James replied, crestfallen, as we inched our way back towards the lab on the 40th floor.

"I ran up. No comms. No signal. No JARVIS. Got to the lab, no suits active or responding. Clint… talking to some teenager… messing with Tony's workstation. No sign've him. By the time I called out to Clint, the goons swarmed me. Gave me somethin', weaker, threatened Clint. Then he was gone. M'sorry guys." Steve coughed out grimly as my gut clenched and twisted even tighter.

"Tony!" James shout echoed through the ransacked lab. DUM-E was tipped over, whining pathetically and U and Butterfingers were twitching with sparks erupting around them. No sign of Tony anywhere.

While setting Steve down to catch his breath (and isn't that a terrifying thought), I twist my new engagement ring unconsciously, already adjusting to the new weight but refusing to think that we should all be celebrating right now not back where we started…

"C'mon Dum-E, where is he? I know you can help us buddy, where's Tony?" James soothes the bot almost pathetically hoping he can do something, anything. The damaged AI twirls immediately and grabs the blender, throws it in my direction and then twirls once more in the opposite direction fiddling with some panel near the far window of the lab. Just as I bend down to investigate the blender at my feet, a whooshing sound captures my attention and James rushes into the new space, hauling out an unconscious but entirely alive Tony Stark.

"Thank fuck!" James sighs in relief as Steve loosens up in realisation that he hasn't lost another best friend.

I rush over to their side as James sets Tony down on the sofa near Steve, he starts mumbling something before Steve tosses a nearby jug of liquid of a sort over his head, jerking him awake.

"Th'fu-! Steeb! G'way!" Tony slaps weakly at Steve's thigh before wiping his face of gunk, shaking his head clear and staring straight at James and I hovering over his head before once more jerking awake to a standing position, gaping at the surrounding area.

"Clint?" He whips round, almost searchingly, before full realising what's happened. Never say Tony Stark isn't observant.

"Tony, we need you to tell us what happened, where is everyone?" I grab Tony gently by his biceps and push him back onto the sofa before he keels over, given how pale he's gotten, it's a definite possibility.

"We… I-" Tony takes a deep breath and slides his mask back into place, reciting the event as though in a SHIELD boardroom, "Clint and I decided to practice some metal work techniques in my lab. After about an hour, I feel really sleepy and weak, Clint helps me into my secret break room for a nap, I remember telling JARVIS to shut down the station. Not safe for Clint. Never heard a response. Never saw Clint after he closed the door… JARVIS!?"

"Down for the count, how the hell could they do that Tony? Wait, how did you fall asleep?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I need to get JARVIS back, he'll know." Tony started muttering to himself as he messed around with wires all over his station.

"The blender… The blender! Dum-E was trying to tell us there's something in the blender! Tony, did you have one of your smoothies?" My instincts started kicking in, overruling the debilitating fear.

"Uhhh, yeah, Clint said you guys were trying out new flavours or something for a school something or other. You think it was spiked?"

"It's gotta be! Tony you'd never just fall asleep while watching Clint, not purposely. How the hell did someone spike this stuff?" James questioned as he scanned through the ingredients near the kitchen bench.

"I don't know. I don't know how they did any of this stuff!"

"What about the signal? Steve said JARVIS got the signal out just before everything shut down. We got it. Where the hell is everyone else?"

"Was about to ask that very question," interrupted the pissed off voice of Nicholas Fury.

"Damn! Don't do that! We're on edge enough!" James growled at him, Fury never even blinking before carrying on.

"What the hell happened? I get the signal but its cut off by a message from Phil saying it was a false alarm. Decided to stop by anyway, never miss the chance to throw any mistake in Stark's face. Natasha apparently got the same message so we decided to head over together in a jet. Then we see the tower in darkness and everything in pieces. Romanoff finds the Hulk almost in tears, locked in his own emergency room and I discover my best agent in tatters, Captain America with asthma, Tony Stark saying 'I don't know' and the Winter Soldier sniffing at a goddamn fruit! What the fuck happened!"

"We're compromised sir, I never sent any messages. Barton and Duquesne breached the tower with some goons, some insider knowledge and took Clint as well as screwing over every one of us, including JARVIS."

"I wouldn't say 'screwed' Phillip, but I appreciate your anger at the situation." JARVIS erupted back to life overhead.

"JARV, you got anything?"

"Indeed, sir. Young master Clint added an unknown ingredient to your smoothie at approximately 8:57pm which I will now scan the blender for; I was not recording his actions as I believed DUM-E to be able to ensure Clint's safety and I never felt he was a threat to sir's health. At 9:14pm, Clint assisted sir to his break room and then used override controls to have me lock sir in and allow unknown assailants into the Tower. I was able to identify Jacques Duquesne, as sir had me on constant alert for him and his known accomplices. I was able to send the alert signals before Clint entered the control room, inputted sir's master key and disabled me from the mainframe. I apologise for this is where my observations end, sir," JARVIS finished up with an apologetic tone as the room lay in a harsh silence.

"H-He could-/wouldn't/ do this, sir…" I pleaded with Nick, no longer Marcus in this situation. I can't even begin to believe JARVIS, believe that my little boy, our child would choose to leave, to betray us like this. I feel the tears burning behind my eyelids and my breathing feel like a lead weight. But worst of all, /worst of all/, was that James hadn't even looked at me. Hadn't taken my hand in his. My ring now felt like a scalding hot scar ripping its way across my finger.

"We are compromised Coulson. I'm taking over. Get yourselves cleaned up. We've got an emergency briefing in twenty. Everyone attends or else you're considered an enemy of SHIELD. Playtime's over children." I can feel the anguish in his tone, the betrayal stings him too, Clint was on his Helicarrier, in his office, in his /heart/.

I… I just can't… Fuck!

/WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?/


	12. 00 Days : -01 Hours : -02 Minutes

The silence continues to suffocate the area. Only Tony's muttering to JARVIS, and the AI's replies break the thick fog of tension. I hear JARVIS discussing the elementary components in his smoothie as well as scanning Steve for whatever the hell has weakened him.

Steve's breathing is finally evening out to a normal rate when I stumble out of my shocked stupor as James quick marches out of the lab without a word or a glance at any of us. I can feel Steve giving me that look, the look of a best friend afraid for his best friend but knowing he can't help right now. Only me. But how? How am I supposed to help James, my /fiancée/, if I can't even help myself enough to put one foot in front of the other?

"Pepper always said relationships were made up of mutual building blocks of pain. You put a block down, they put a block down, you both build it up together… I never liked Legos…" Tony seemingly reading minds, answers with an almost self-deprecating grunt.

I stride out of the lab, following my heart, knowing that it's still honest with me even if my mind is wary. I somehow wind up at our floor, opening the door and closing it like any other night. But it's not and I just know it'll never be the same again. Max is sat at our bedroom door crying and whimpering as though he knows exactly what's happened; it's almost painful seeing him without Clint by his side or in the same room. Clint didn't take him too? Not enough time?

"/S'mine. Keeps'me safe"/

Clint's words ring out like an empty echo through my rib cage. I push it back, continuing through the bedroom door, finding James by the wardrobe on the far side of the room. He's got his tactical gear on, weapons and go-bag prepped, fiddling with the pressure points and release pads of his arm. He showed me how to disarm it if… if I ever needed to. Clint as well.

"Got a briefing, sir. Can't be late." His voice sounds tinny and echoes through my seemingly hollow bones just as Clint's old words had. I almost don't recognise it through the shade of the room and the lies in my head.

"Barnes?" I answer, equalling his utilisation of 'sir'. In our bedroom. We never… not at home. Work is work and home is home.

"D'you remember Coulson?"

"I… What?"

"/Phil/… Do you remember what I showed you?" His voice breaks at my name, his hands glides over the crunching metal of his arm in the light of the skyline. I realise what he's asking.

"Yes."

"Good."

"Not going to need it, James."

"It's happening again… I- I read it wrong. The feelings aren't /feeling/ right. I… The mission… Cli-"

"/I'm not going to disable your arm. / I don't /need/ to disable your arm." I order softly with both my words and my shaking hold of his biceps, turning him to face me.

"But I- It… They made me think I was doing good things Phil… That Steve was bad. That /you/ were bad. That /children/were weak… I believed him Phil, I still believe in him…", a tear trickles down his face and I realise James is more broken right now than I am; luckily for him I always enjoyed Legos as a kid.

"/So do I. / He is our child and we love him. That is not weakness. You are James Buchanan Barnes, my fiancée and Clint's guardian. We are in this together and we /are/ bringing him home. He's a just a kid… He needs his guardians right now. You with me, Buck?" I hold his face gently in my hands pressing a reassuring kiss to the corner of his mouth as he loosens from his battle stance, resting his forehead against mine, wrapping his arms around my waist. He nods his head, kissing my cheek.

"What the fuck happened?" He whispers harshly, painful emotion causing his hands to clench around my waist bring us closer.

"Let's go find out. Together."

"Together." He squeezes my hand, my ring feeling like a solid reminder of hope and strength, more than a scar, more than a new weight; it's our future.

We are essentially the third people to enter the Tower's SHIELD protected briefing room. Tony was already hunched over, playing with a tablet and the touch screen table itself, unusually silent. Steve looked more like himself, no breathing issues or bleeding, standing with his back towards us, soldier stance, arms behind his back. Fury was sitting stock still and silent at the head of the table nearest to the door.

James and I took simultaneous breaths and walked hand in hand still, towards the opposite side of the table from Tony. As we sit, Natasha hauls in a very pale and wet Bruce collapsing in the nearest chairs, on Tony's side. I can feel James arm whirring; whether it's from his previous fiddling or sudden desire to clench his fist but not break my hand, I'm not sure, but it's silent enough for only me to feel rather than hear so I don't move.

"We were compromised." Nick's words rip through the quiet anger, causing a more stifling heat of emotions to swallow the oxygen in the room. Steve finally sits at the other end of table.

"Here's everything we've compiled. I expect you all to add to this file. This is a SHIELD led operation now. Led by me. Ordered by me. No one else. Clinton Francis Barton… Age six. Orphan. Brother, Charles Bernard Barton. Age fifteen. Affiliations with the criminal group of Carson's Travelling Circus. Approximately seven months ago, Carson's was due to perform for one week in the city. Somehow they left Barton Jr. behind where Level 9 Agent Coulson found him and took him to his home. Following the discovery of Barton Jr, he gathered information on the family which is in your dockets. Since reading this, Agent Coulson used his SHIELD resources to secure Barton Jr in the Avengers' Tower and set up surveillance at the local school. Approximately five months ago, we apprehended the Carson's Circus but Barton Sr. and leading criminal, Jacques Duquesne, escaped.

After reviewing footage of this surveillance, our SHIELD techs found footage of the Barton brothers meeting at different times throughout the school day for the past four months. The footage is unreadable, even by your standards, Stark. Reviewing footage around the Tower and SHIELD found Barton Jr to be proficient with SHIELD and Avenger's codes, mainframes and security…

Cl- Barton Jr, compromised us from the inside, from day one. We presume it was to steal Stark's weaponry or blueprints, infiltrate Avengers and find the weak points. Well, they did it!

Last night by twenty one hundred, Barton Jr incapacitated Stark, overriding JARVIS with his knowledge on the AI and Stark security, allowing him to remove JARVIS from the tower main frame and allow Barton Sr., Duquesne and forty six accomplices into the vacant and vulnerable tower. The alert signal was sent out but Barton Jr. was able to send a message to myself and Romanoff to keep us behind, he was not able to do the same to the Captain who had already reached the Tower and was shot with bullets made from an unknown substance causing his weakened abilities. Agent Coulson and Sergeant Barnes had also reached the Tower, helping Rogers and trying to apprehend the intruders. At this stage, Dr Banner had been lured by Barton Jr into the safety area built specifically for the Hulk, which he was then trapped in throughout the fight. Romanoff and I arrived in a Quinjet to this mess…

Stark has checked, they took all available blueprints, codes and armour they could carry, the arrows and shrapnel match Sergeant Barnes' wounds from four months ago, fired by Barton Sr. AKA Trickshot, our techs were able to match these wounds and shrapnel to at least a dozen other kills. Captain Rogers has identified some of the weaponry and goons, JARVIS is hoping to gather the rest. We pinged three of the twelve SUVs which fled the tower after the intrusion. None have given us any inside to their overall goal or Duquesne and the Bartons.

SHIELD has decided to track these goons but the Avengers and their handler are to proceed /no further/ in investigating this incident…

Learn from it and fix the problems as soon as possible people. This was a big fuck-up that could have gone so much worse. Only Stark can build Stark shit, weaknesses can be strengthened and these idiots will slip up."

Fury kept slamming images and clips and stills and documents onto the table, both electronic and paper. Every sentence rattled me and James' hand whirred tighter in my own, Fury couldn't even say Clint's name, not even my name. Removing himself from the situation emotionally seems to be his goal, that and removing us from the whole situation completely!? I fucking knew that shooting would be a real headache for me someday. Shit.

"Sir! You can't do that. This was on us. He's one of us. Clint is my child and you can't just tell me to leave him out there with those fucking murderers!"

"This is not up for discussion Coulson. Don't think I won't bench you!"

"This is not a goddamn mission Fury this is a kid! Our kid! We're bringing him home!" James stood, with all his wrath, next to me.

"He played us! /He played all of us/!" Nick roared. None of the rest of the team could look at any of the three of us.

"He's a six year old with a stupid brother, Marcus… Just like me and you… Where would we be if Peggy hadn't come after us?" With that I can feel Steve's gaze rip through the side of my face, even into James', almost betrayed. James knows, I told him the facts about that time in my life, the step brother I had and the terrible brother Marcus had and the needy little teenagers we once were.

James hand wraps softly around my forearm in reassurance, Marcus' eyes twinkle for just a moment before he rises, coat flapping in the wind of our torment, and exits the room without another word.

-03 Days : -14 Hours : -57 Minutes

"Phil. His tracker's been enabled… We found him…"


	13. -03 Days : -14 Hours : -57 Minutes

-03 Days : -14 Hours : -57 Minutes

"Phil. His tracker's been enabled… We found him…"

My stomach dropped and twisted viciously. Tony's voice a mere echo as I try to keep from stumbling through the corridors towards the range where I instinctively know James is. I'll apologise later for hanging up, a very 'Fury' move, if I have anything to say about it, but it's _time_. We've been prepping for this, we know what we need to- _have_ to do. I feel an almost unnerving sense of calm wash over me, numbing my heart and strengthening my bones, as baby agents scramble from my sight lines, they are as of yesterday aware of my alleged fuck up… my child's alleged betrayal. I see the sneers, the sad looks of pity and the utter shock at my supposed naivety. I haven't given up.

James hasn't either. We're in this together. He's been through the looks and pity and shock before; the Winter Soldier's legend was no longer a fable, the lives he ended no longer empty graves. He just pastes on his façade for the day and acts like nothing ever happened. They never saw him with Clint, my colleagues, they never saw what he was before we had a life to cherish and care for. They don't whisper about how much he changed, how sad his life is, was, they never respect him out of pity or sympathy. They see a soldier, a deadly assassin who would snap their necks without a second thought and that kid he lost is just another hit on the list.

I'm the lonely balding guy who got screwed over by a six year old because no one ever loved me before. And fuck that.

There's a reason why I only ever was in the field with Tasha. She was the only person I trusted and still do to this day. I may train these agents but I train what I'm told to train them in and without the experience in the real world to show you just where you are and where you belong on this planet, then you're just a cocky little shit who doesn't deserve my time. I never disagreed with Nick on that point and this situation has just proved it to me in full force. We have good agents, a good agency but as people they are selfish and naive to what true team work and family is.

This is why the only people who can save Clint is his family.

"Barnes…"

"Sir." James never takes his eyes off the targets as he addresses me. No one else dares to share a range with The Soldier.

"Romanoff is on route to Budapest…"

"I'll feel free to back her up, sir?"

"Always."

Code words. SHIELD may be where we work and how we help protect the world but they've proven too many times that they can't help us protect our families so why should we give them any reason to be suspicious about us. Tasha has never been allowed back in Budapest since ninety nine, and that certainly won't change, no matter her feelings on the subject. My amazing fiancée never even blinked as he realised fully what this meant, I couldn't be more grateful of him if I tried.

James nods, his eyes acknowledging the determination in my gait and the fierce love for our family in my eyes, as he sweeps his ways past me to the nearest exit. I am to follow and meet at our rendezvous point within the hour to withhold any other suspicion.

My face sets still even further as Hill enters the range with a bunch of ducklings at her heel, keeping up appearances I nod once more before exiting and readying myself to find my son. The time is now, I'm on my way Clint, and I've got a pinkie promise to keep.

I take the third longest possible route to the old diner, circling four times within a five mile radius to be sure I've not been followed. There would be no backup this time, no bystanders, no TV anchors and cameras, no super suits and pretty spandex. This was two deadly assassins, one super soldier, one heavily armed genius, one biochemically engineered rage monster, one not so mythical God and a very fucked off super-secret agent father whose family had been attacked and taken, no matter what the "evidence" said.

I entered through the front doors and was signalled the okay by Tony's friend, the owner of the establishment with the Stark-built panic/safe room in his basement. There was a protocol for this situation within the Avengers, not SHIELD-known but one within ourselves and, I fear, that after this fiasco SHIELD will begin to see and know a lot less about the Avengers and their business. The protocol is as follows; if one or more members of the team is taken and whereabouts unknown, we fight to find them until we no longer can, no longer allowed to or we find them. If we are held back from helping our teammate(s), this calls a Code D.T.929, 'Dark Team', where a select few of us unconnected to SHIELD, or the like, is constantly searching for this member until evidence or whereabouts are found. The protocol dictates the rest of the team are called in random and interspersed order, starting with the most important team member then team leader and so on. Each member arrives at the last decided safe zone within two and half hours of the call and the team decides on a plan of action before going full 'Dark Team' and completing the mission at hand.

I make my way through the three security measures before I finally enter the safe room, Tony's first there having set up information and detailed mission parameters as he called each of us to meet him here, Steve looks to have jogged here, only due to the sweat pants rather than any visible signs of sweat or strain and James sits with his back to me cleaning a Barrett M98B rifle, standard American military issue to keep suspicion from falling on our hands once the bodies are found. Thank you Colonel Rhodes, I think as I glance a casually calculating eye around the room filled with tech, weaponry and black ops gear that even Tony would find trouble stock piling.

"Just waiting on the others before I get into it…" Tony mumbles, fiddling with a camera of sorts.

"Don't wait on us," Tasha slants in return as she drags Bruce in, lipstick staining his cheeks.

"There's no time for nooky nooky Brucie…" Tony smirks smugly as Bruce's cheeks flare red.

"Cops gave us the jump as we were parking across the block, had to pretend we weren't taking drugs so making out was the next best option." Natasha explains without looking anyone but Tony in the eye.

"Classy," Tony mutters finally pulling away from Natasha unending stare.

Thor is last to arrive, twenty minutes later minus his robes with hair tied back and Mjolnir nowhere in sight.

"Let us begin my comrades…"

We leave as teams Alpha, Beta and Delta, supported by the dark of night. As a team we stand, as a family we fight. If this night doesn't produce a victory for this mischievous and troubled family of outcasts then the Avengers will be no more…


	14. -04 Days : -22 Hours : -39 Minutes

-04 Days : -22 Hours : -39 Minutes

Finally reaching warehouse thirteen at the docks off of Staten Island, each team calls in their position. The air is damp but warm, the rain being kept at bay as though it's stopping itself from spilling over, giving us hope, leverage.

"Alpha, positioned," Steve chirps.

"Delta, positioned," James mimics.

"Beta, positioned," I call back.

Team Alpha consists of the heavy duty members, Steve, Thor and Tony dressed in his most recent suit model. They are positioned at the front access point of the warehouse, our first line of attack leading the goons to underestimate the rest of us. With our three best weapons taken up, team Beta is Tasha and myself, our second line of attack, sneaky, deadly and underestimated easily. This then leaves our very last line up, team Delta, James and Bruce, a mixture of sneaky, powerful and deadly. I run the plan through my mind over and over as we await Steve's 'go' signal.

"Alpha is green," are the last words I hear before the warehouse erupts into gunfire and shouts of pain.

"Delta, sightline?" I ask James for his POV, readying for my entrance as Natasha listens closely from her nest near the highest warehouse window.

"Too bright, three down on outer defences, no signal from Alpha yet,"

"Let me know Delta. They have ninety seconds…" I reply, stomach swirling with nerves and fingers twitching with adrenaline.

"Alph- Re- ll- pur- Cou- n- pur- Red- …" Steve's voice crackles through the comms as we hit 43 seconds and an EMP wipes out a wide radius. I glimpse Mjolnir, whirling through the air, lifted by heavy lightning to an unknown location.

"Delta, we are red alert. Beta is officially green. Stay in position until otherwise." I hear Natasha scoff as I bolt into the warehouse from a rusted side door, the area is filled with half emptied crates and weapons I vaguely recognise. I take down four guys with my glock, switching to automatic as I hear Thor's thunderous cries from the other end of the building. Natasha and Delta are silent in my ear so I carry on alone, armed to the gills.

"How the hell did you survive?" Steve's distraught tones leave me crouching behind two abandoned 4x4s near the front entrance. I can see Steve on his knees, hands behind his back, Thor unconscious by his side and Tony still in full armour but unable to move due to the EMP, I assume. Whoever caused this I can't make out because of the very stereotypical evil pacing. I assume it's Duquesne but how he managed this operation I'm not entirely sure. My main focus is finding a way around this obstacle to the main offices on the opposite side of the front entrance to my position, that's where Clint's tracker seems to be emitting from. No sign of Barton Sr.

"Vell Capitan, zat mystical orb vas not a veapon but a mode ov transportation, I have travelled vor many years to vinally vind you but vere surrounded by such powervul beings… how vas I supposed to overcome zee 'mighty Avengers'?" Oh God. Oh no. How? Fuck!

The figure of every child from the sixties nightmare makes its appearance before my eyes, the clichéd German accent accentuated by the very American setting and the neon red head is almost comical if he didn't have my family on its knees and my son behind bars somewhere. _Red Skull_ …

"That fucking cube… Thor! When you wake up we're fucking Loki all over again I swear to Odin!" Tony's voice echoes from within the metal suit with its usual speakers.

"What do you want from us, from these criminals?"

"Vat I've alvays vanted, respect and power! Zese idiots gave me a vay in that I never could have dreamed. You mere humans, so veak, especially in the vace of a child…" he laughs and shivers rupture down my back at the near mention of Clint. I'm contemplating a gymnastic move of sorts over some nearby vehicles when I hear the deafening drawback of a hammer from a gun directly behind my head.

"H'very a-matoor of ya Coulson. Heh. Drop 'em," Duquesne drawls as he grips my nape roughly, shoving our way over to his leader, once I've dropped all my visible weapons.

"Ah! The veakling shows his vace at last. How does it veel to be so very vulnerable and alone, stuck in our trap, I know that our little puppet certainly misses his vater…" Hatred burns in my gut and tears almost sting my eyes at Clint's pain.

"I am not alone. We are vulnerable because we _aren't_ alone and my son is _not_ your _puppet_." I reply venomously, as I'm shoved onto my knees in front of Steve.

It's okay. It'll be okay Clint, I promise. We planned for this, we just realised it was Skull too late. Come on James, please. Come on Tasha.

"No wonder I recognised the weaponry, German make, classic war stylings…" Steve draws their attention away from me, giving us more time.

"Nothin' wrong witha classic, huh?" Duquesne tries to butt in, moving into James obvious sightline as he's immediately taken down, bullet to the brain. Thank you, baby.

"Move! Move! Move! Vind that sniper, vhere is Trickshot?" Red Skull dives as James nicks his upper arm, the commotion allowing Tony's reboot systems to back up fully and laser the cuffs off of me before taking Steve's shield to his, they're vibranium lined, another secret from Clint I suppose.

I take off towards the offices and bolt down the corridor, taking a glance around the corner and seeing Natasha has already gotten down this hallway; it being littered with bodies. I begin to run my way towards the other end of it when I hear whimpers. I know that sound, but where the hell is he… I can hear voices… below me?

Checking the very last door on the right, a staircase is just barely visible, I make my way down, whipping out two other pistols from my ankles. Holding one in my hand and one in the back of my black tactical trousers just in case.

There is one door at the end of the staircase, a small wired window the only view point. I can barely make out a figure in the room due to the tinged yellow lighting and dark shadows but the voice is relatively clear, making my blood boil.

"Stupid fuckin' runt. Always told ya ta watch yer mouth. Never gonna learn. Can't drag ya 'round f'ever Clint. Time ta man up. Take the fuckin' gun or I'll make ya…"

I'm gonna fucking strangle him, I just wish I knew where Clint was, I could tell him to close his eyes. I don't want to kill his brother in front of him but I will if he says another word. I holster my gun in an attempt to stop accidental misfire when I'm unsure where Clint is, I slam the door open. Getting a glimpse of Clint chained by the ankle to the metal bed post in the far corner, and the choice to kill Barney Barton is taken from me as Tasha sweeps in from the ceiling, grappling with the teenager, straight out the door past me. Clint looks up, seemingly unaware of what's happening and, for an awful and terrifying moment I think they've drugged him, then his beautiful bright blue eyes meet mine...

"DADDY!" Clint screams as he launches himself off the browning mattress as I feel my feet pounding right over to him, lifting him into my arms.

"Clint, baby, I'm right here,"

"Daddy, daddy, I told them you'd come, they kept sayin' you're not ma daddy n you never come f'trai-tor, but you promised, knew y'would. Pwease don leave me daddy, pwease! Pinkie promise?!" Clint wheezes out through his tears and shuddering breaths and my heart constricts for my son. I thank every being that I found him and squeeze him tighter in my arms, so oblivious to the world that neither of us hear James rush through the door behind us.

"Phil…" James almost sighs my name as we both whip around to see him standing there, his face filled with relief and body stocked with barely contained anger.

"Dad!" Clint shouts out to him, arms around my neck loosening to make grabby hands for James as our tears spill over. James quick marches his way over, wrapping us tightly in the safety net of his arms. I feel James kissing both our foreheads, murmuring soft notions of love and safety to us before the sickening boom of gun fire causes us to break apart once more.

"This is Silver, I have White and Purple, we are heading to safety. Code Green. Destroy the place. Leave no one behind." James addresses the comms which Clint managed to dislodge from my ear in the hugging. James nods to himself as Steve checks in, confirming Red Skull's demise at his, Tony and Thor's hands. Natasha has Barney and I know James finished Duquesne for which I'm almost jealous. Leaving the destruction and demise of this ungodly place to Hulk and Thor, we remove Clint's chains and make our way out of the building towards the safety of our home.

I huddle Clint closer as his fingers dig into my neck with one hand and his other clutches desperately at James' in his adrenaline crashing sleep, walking our way to the nearest car, that'll we'll end up stealing anyway, rather than walking towards our own. Tony always replaces these kind of things but with this blood on our hands, I don't know what will happen. The surrealistic atmosphere of the situation overwhelms me as James drives us to the tower, covered in blood and ash, in a manual Honda type vehicle with Clint safely curled in my lap and the docks of Staten Island falling into our background.

My family's finally safe…


	15. -04 Days : -09 Hours : -25 Minutes

-04 Days : -09 Hours : -25 Minutes

"How is he?" Bruce shivers under the multiple blankets swathed around him, followed into our living room by Natasha and Tony. Steve had already stopped by, giving us the updated intel on our operation and the police reports over the last few hours. Fury hasn't even called querying the situation, I'm not sure whether to be pleased or worried but my son is safe and in my arms once more so I'm not going to complain.

"Dehydrated, exhausted and terrified of being alone. But safe. Thank you, all of you…" I whisper sincerely and James tugs us both closer into his arms on the sofa. We were able to calm Clint enough to clean him off, put him in some pyjamas and wrap him in a blanket between us with Max at our feet. We both were able to rid ourselves of blood and dust, into some clean sweats awaiting our family's return.

Amongst the commotion of the rest of the Avengers seating themselves around our common room for a debrief of sorts, Clint snuffles himself awake, unshed tears sparkle in his eyes as he glances around the people who love him before finally landing on me.

"Hey bud, it's okay. You're okay…" I murmur softly as I pull him onto my lap, rubbing his back to quiet him once more.

"M'sorry…" Clint sniffles some more.

"What for? Clint, do you want to tell us what happened?" I ask and Clint whimpers softly, I instinctively hold him tighter.

"Clint, ace, we promised we weren't gonna leave you. Whatever you tell us, whatever you did wrong, it's alright. But we need to make sure you're okay, please?" James talks softly, holding onto Clint's hand as he does.

Clint finally nods his head against my shoulder and everyone seems to straighten up, waiting for the explanation as to why this little boy felt the need to put himself in so much danger.

"From the start?" I offer as Clint seems to struggle with where to begin, settling into the crook of my arm, facing the rest of us.

"Barney 'ways said ne'er trust th'cops… Th'Swordsman started trainin' Barn n' I hadda sleep 'lone n clean th'stables 'lone… Barn said we're gonna have n'adventure in th'Big Apple but-but he kept sayin 'bout a plan n' ne'er trust th'cops 'part from Phil. Kept sayin' I had ta trust a 'Phil' but I didn wannu. I wanned t'go back, t'circus. Then Max foun' me n Barn was gone. Then Daddy foun' me, he was Phil and I had t'trust 'im but I was scared. Then Daddy was super nice and I met Dad n they pinkie promised they'd keep me n I'd be safe. N' I learn'd lots've thins 'bout SHIELD n 'vengers n' special things. Then Barn came back! He kept visiting me n tellin me all 'bout a brand new circus with a new job f'me. But I hadda tell him about Daddy an' Dad an' Uncl'Nick an' Tasha n' everybody. I din wannu. I swear! Bu-but Barn said he'd leave n' Daddy would get hurt n' then I had to help 'im into th'tower n' Dad got hurt cos I said no, so I hadoo. They said they jus' needed some stuff n' they wouldn take anything important f'the new circus bu' I knew Tony had to be asleep cos' they'd hurt 'im n' Dum-E. I tried to make JARVIS be quiet cos they'd take Tony's Project n' tha's dan'g'rous. But! But then they started fighting and they shot Steve and Bruce and they took me n' tol' me you din want me and I was stupid n you wern my Daddy but you said you were! You said I could choose you an' you pinkie promised! M'sorry m'sorry m'sorry sorry sorry…" Clint wailed, heaving breaths and I wrapped him tightly between James' torso and my own, tears leaking down my own face at the utter unfairness in Clint's life, a life where he could be manipulated so cruelly by his bastard brother and the people who were supposed to protect him.

"It's okay, shhh, baby, we've got you. You're right we promised and we never break our pinkie promises in this family. We are your daddies if you want us to be and if you do then that'll never change. I'm so sorry you got hurt Clint. We'll keep them away from you, it's not gonna happen again. We love you so much, baby," I repeated as James petted his hair and back until Clint finally settled into a fitful sleep again.

The others were in various states of upset, anger and exhaustion and at James' nod they all said they good nights, acknowledging Clint's safety with kisses, soothing touches and cooing noises before leaving for their own individual rooms and beds. Not one of them had a moment to spare to mention my engagement ring, not even Clint, but now that everyone's home at last, I don't expect that to carry on much longer. James kisses my lips tenderly and then grabs another blanket before arranging the three of us in a nest of sorts before we snuggle down for a night of gut wrenching nightmares, tears and utter relief.

After hours of half sleeping and nightmares, James, Clint, Max and I finally decide to make our way to the communal kitchen at six thirty am. We shuffle to the elevator, Clint in my arms, Max ahead of me and James clutching at my t-shirt from behind. We make quite the scene as we enter the kitchen slash dining room with every other avenger staring at us in various forms of alertness.

"Is it time to mention the ring yet? Tony's still taking bets," Natasha smirks around her mug of coffee as my head simultaneously snaps up with James' whereas everyone else mumbles in confusing gazing at every hand in sight.

"What the hell Secret Agent man? Did Robocop put a ring on it?!" Tony shouts, suddenly awake.

"Daddy why's Tone shoutin'?" Clint asks, just fully waking up himself. And James is as literate as he ever is at this time in the morning with zero caffeine…

"Uhhhhh…." Thank you, sweetheart.

"Calm, Stark. Okay, team, I think we do have an announcement to make. James asked me to marry him when we went out that night, and I said yes," I announce, as stoic as ever, trying very hard not to move in fear of bad reactions; certainly not thinking about any such betting pool.

"You're gonna marry Dad?!" Clint realises and reacts first, shouting right into my face with clear joy written all over his own face.

"Yeah, buddy, I'm gonna marry your Dad," I finally say it to myself, hear it for the first time. I can no longer hold back my overwhelming ecstasy, embarrassingly toothy smile gripping my face, at finally having everything I've ever dreamed of in one single room.

"Yay!" Clint hugs my head so tight I can only vaguely hear the others make their way over, giving their congratulations and joy to both me and, a very out of it, James.

"Who wants pancakes and waffles!? I think it's time to celebrate my best guy getting married and our little guy being home!" Steve cheers wrapping an arm around Buck, leading him towards the wondrous coffee as Tasha lifts Clint onto her lap, plopping me down at the table next to her.

A wedding and a son and a family. Holy crap, I have so much organising to do!


	16. -173 Days : -21 Hours : -18 Minutes

-173 Days : -21 Hours : -18 Minutes

Getting married… That-that is something I don't think I could explain.

The bubble of joy, excitement, nausea, stress and wonder never really pops. Not the morning where I was dressed into an Armani, navy three piece suit and pampered by Natasha, Tony and Clint; where I helped my son dress into his very first tux, tried to stop our dog from chewing his bow and asked Natasha not stab Tony with her heels, yet. Not while rushing into and organising travel to the courthouse with two excited seven year olds (Tony is worse than Clint), a German Shepard, an easily annoyed assassin and New York traffic. Not when I held my son's hand, following my best woman and best friend down the "aisle" of the small and cramped court room due to the many large teammates squeezed into normal suits rather than super ones. Certainly not when I saw my tear-jerkingly handsome fiancée in his grey-silver suit with a navy blue tie that matched mine and my tie to match his. It nearly did when I glanced at my family trying very hard to act normal, this included Steve in full uniform which James decided to veto for himself, while watching us make our vows, pinkie promising our love, lives and laughter to each other. It seemed impenetrable when I kissed my husband for the very first time, our son hugging our legs and our family cheering in the wings. This beautiful and magical bubble never even budged when my husband carried our son down the "aisle" with my hand clutched in his, our rings gliding over each other. I tried very hard to pop it myself, pulling faces at our mesh mash of wedding songs which included 'Secret Agent Man', 'Mr Roboto' and 'At Last'… my lonely days are gone… really Tony? It lasted through the reception at the Tower's many floors and right through the night where my amazing husband screwed me into the mattress and then I screwed him into the mattress and then we shared loving kisses until the sun rose and our son very lovingly jumped onto our torsos for family snuggles. Luckily, Max felt the bed was cramped enough without him added and we spent the day in bed watching movies.

The bubble hasn't really popped but just thinned enough for reality to seep in, allowing me to do my job and to enjoy having my husband and son right there with me; safe and happy.

We waited six months to get married and within those months of savouring our family and safety we realised how much better we are together, stronger and nothing would stand in our way; certainly not an adoption agency because I _don't_ just pick up all my kids from alley ways; well I _try_ not to.

I wasn't always an only child, my step brother certainly never acted like one and when we lost him it affected me more in later years than at the time. I don't want Clint's only memories of siblings and kinship like that to be crowded in fear and hate like mine was, until quite recently. James always said he wanted a big family, so why not?

-194 Days : -16 Hours : -08 Minutes

Three weeks after our wedding and the bubble is back.

Welcome to the family little Harlowe Annie Barnes-Coulson, James wanted Annie for his Mom and I chose Harlowe. I gazed at my baby girl wondrously as I crept quietly behind James, who was holding our precious bundle, with baby bag in tow into our apartment. We'd told Clint there was a surprise being delivered that we'd have to pick it up and we'd be back at the apartment for two o'clock to show him; telling Tony to keep his mouth shut and Natasha to have an extra eye out. The planning from the adoption agency allowed us to keep our full identities private from the mother of the child, also allowing her to be reassured by her child's future parents' backgrounds but not overly attached to us; in case of the press or, Odin forbid, she wanted her back. We both agreed that we didn't mind much on the age of our child but one younger than Clint would be preferable to keep him from reading into a new older sibling too much. Once I finally got the call last week about the baby girl with a green light, we set the date, allowing for extra time and check-ups before we could pick up our little girl.

She'd slept the whole road home from the hospital, only being born a few days would do that to you, I guess. Knowing we'd be bringing a new member home, Tony had been designing one of our guest rooms especially with the baby in mind and here it was all ready to go as James walked softly into the baby-blue and cream covered room with the jungle mural to the left by her crib. I set the bag down, about to find Clint to show him his new little sister when James quiet gasp stopped me.

"She's awake," James whispered in awe from his seat in the white-painted, wooden rocker.

"Hey there beautiful, welcome home," I greeted her, taking her little fingers in mine for a shake, causing James to chuckle and kiss my cheek.

"Daddy?" Clint's curious voice was laced with concern, as I spotted him in the doorway to the room, one that even he hadn't seen the inside of yet.

"Hey, ace, come here and see the surprise," I signalled him closer and he traipsed cautiously towards us, Harlowe just out of view until he reached my side.

"Say hello to your little sister, Clint. This is Harlowe…" James smiled at our son before lifting our daughter more into Clint's sight.

"I-Imma big brother?" Clint asked, bird-like eyes focused onto the tiny bundle in his Dad's arms.

"Yeah, bud, you are," I whispered, joy leaking from my smile. That was until Clint bolted from the room without a word.

"What happened?" James asked, worry cracking his features, making as to get up.

"No. Stay, I'll see what's wrong, you just hold her," I reassured him and left but not before placing a kiss to his lips and Harlowe's scrunched up forehead; as though she too knows there's something wrong with her brother.

"Clint? JARVIS, any sign of Clint?"

"In the tree trunk, Master Coulson,"

"Thank you," Looking for Clint in a tree house this big, never mind a tower this big, is always a difficult job so I can never be too grateful to have JARVIS on hand.

"Hey ace, what's wrong? You can always tell us what's wrong, you know that. We pinkie'd, remember?" I talked softly just like I had to Harlowe and James before, as I crouched by the hidden door to the tree trunk in Clint's room.

"I can't… I don't wanna…" I can just about make out the mumbles from inside the wooden compartment.

"Can't what, Clint? Do you wanna come out and sit with me and talk? You'll always be our little bird and we'll love you both equally. No one's being replaced, Clint," I hear some more shuffles and mumbles before the latch is unhooked and Clint scrabbles out, straight into my lap, head hidden in my chest.

"Not lil' anymore, m'big. A big brother, like Barney. Don wanna be Barney, Daddy. Don't wanna hurt Harlowe and make her tell me things about you n' Dad n' take her away from here. I don wanna!" Clint cries out, his voice hoarse from tears and my own throat constricts tightly as I clutch Clint closer, soothing him before I reply to the seven year olds painful thoughts.

"Clint, baby, you are _not_ and _never will be_ Barney. He went through a tough time just like you but nobody was there to help him out like your Dad and I did for you. He made you hurt and leave because he was jealous and doing a bad thing for selfish reasons. You tried to stop it and him, you were so amazing and we are so proud of you for trying to stop him like you did, protecting Tony and JARVIS and Dum-E and me; your family. You are going to be a fantastic big brother because you will protect and love your sister as much as you love me and your Dad and Max and Uncle Tony and everybody. Harlowe will be so lucky to have you and so are we. I pinkie promise that you will be the best big brother ever and I will help you make sure, how's that?" I held out my pinkie just like I did that fateful day, over a year ago now, and Clint took it more than willingly and trustfully than he did that day.

Clint followed, holding my hand tight as we made our way back into baby Harlowe's room, where James was nosing at her little downy tufts of brown hair like he did in the hospital hours before when he held her for the first time.

"Hey bud. You ready to hold her?" James smiled wide as Clint nodded enthusiastically and dropped my hand to take a seat on the stool in front of the rocker with his arms out, grinning.

"Okay, Clint you've got to be really careful because she's very small and delicate yet, so we'll help you make sure she snuggled all safe in your arms," I warned as Clint nodded his understanding once more.

I crouched next him on the stool as James bent forward, placing the little girl into Clint's arms, with mine under them to shift her if needed. James shared a smile with me as we watched our children interact for the very first time, our family feeling another bit more complete, even if we weren't finished quite yet.

"Hi lil' bug. I'm lil' bird but m'gonna keep you safe like a good big brother… I pinkie promise…"


	17. -3844 Days : -02 Hours : - 57 Minutes

-3844 Days : -02 Hours : - 57 Minutes

"Everybody up! First day back and I refuse to be late!" I shouted down the upstairs corridor of bedrooms. Only hearing shuffling from one, Harlowe my little angel, still young enough to be excited for the first day of school and smart enough to get her hands on the bathroom first.

Making my way back down the stairs and into the kitchen, I plant a very appreciative kiss to my husband's cheek as he hands me waffles with a side of fruit and syrup and tops up my coffee.

"Big day," James says as he lets Agent, the scruffy white dog with brown spots, out the back door for the bathroom. He certainly softened the blow when we lost Max just a few years ago. Clint was crushed at the loss of his best friend but found great amusement in naming his new doggy friend, the mutt is now fully trained as a therapy dog for any one of us, including the avengers if necessary, and I must admit he certainly loves to cuddle.

"Very. Wanna bet how long it'll take for Clint to ask Tony to rehire me?" I ask smugly as James tries to hold back his laughter at our son's soon to be distress.

"I say he'll be texting me by break and calling Tony by lunch and Wade will be beating me up to stay over tonight and protect his birdy from more heartbreak on _this day of thunderous woe!"_ James exaggerates, hands on his chest, sinking to his knees before I see Harlowe barreling towards him, jumping and clinging for a piggy back.

"Dad! Waffles gimme _pleeeease…"_ Harlowe whines as James stands and twirls around, acting as though he's trying to whip her off.

"Oh my! Phillip there's a bug on me! Quick get it off before it eats me whole!" James screams with a womanly, British tone and runs around the island a few times before Nathaniel shuffles his way into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee machine. I huff to myself, leaving half my breakfast to detach our daughter from her father as he redirects Nate towards the orange juice. I swear I blame Tony for introducing our ten year old to caffeine; although Nathaniel is most like me out of the three of our kids, quiet, intelligent and tough as nails apart from when it comes to early mornings. The only reason he's downstairs before Clint is because the seventeen year old has taken to primping himself every morning right until the final moment we have to leave where he grabs the leftovers from the counter for him and Wade.

"Don' wanna go t'school…" Nate groans as his head hits the table.

"Yes y'do, you wouldn't miss out on the first day, y'just hate havin' to open your eyes this early in the day. You'll get over it, now eat." James, ruffles the boy's hair carefully, taking his own seat between the two kids.

"Clint! You've got five minutes!" I yell in the direction of the stairs, putting my plates in the dish washer before making sure I have everything.

"I know!" Was the very succinct reply I received.

"Are you just gonna let him take the bus?" James asks as he ensures Nate and Harlowe have their lunches and back packs.

"Might sweeten the surprise even further I suppose. Are you with Steve and Tasha this morning?"

"From noon, I have a meeting with Tony about security and the kids this morning. With Phoenix and Grace finally here for more than a quarter of the year and Dax starting in elementary but that's been mostly covered since he's going to the same school as Nate and Harley so we just increase the body count. Don't forget that it's family dinner tonight and everyone's actually home for once, the new recruits are on-call for the night just in case. I'm doing pick up duty and have a great first day, babe," James notifies me of our schedule like he does every morning for the past ten years of our lives and I love him more every day, if that's possible. He drags me in to a kiss that has a little too much tongue to be appropriate, considering the loud grossed-out sounds from our children, but I'll blame that on my glasses and the navy, tight jumper I'm wearing.

"Okay! Time to go! Everybody in the jeep… Clint-" I'm stopped in my tracks when I open the door to our eldest child's very loud, very familiar and very abnormal boyfriend on our front doorstep.

"Hi Phil! How're you on this fine day, the husband treating you right? The kids as well behaved as ever, speaking of kids…" Wade spoke as though on a morning talk show, Nate and Harley not covering their giggles very well at my unamused face, he just kept waving at all of us.

"Clint's on his way out now Wade, why don't I leave him in your trusting hands. Try to be on time this morning, I'd hate to have to give you a detention on the first day," I smiled menacingly but after ten years of friendship with Clint and two years of a more romantic relationship, it worked about as well as it does on James. And Wade, of course, as Wade does, blanked out everyone else when Clint was in his sightlines, so he missed the last part of my sentence.

"Hey Wade," I could feel the glittering smile Clint was sending his boyfriend through my back. I shuffled the kids out the door towards the jeep, leaving Clint and Wade to greet eachother before rushing off to the bus or wandering around until they had no choice but to dash to the high school. Clint was a great kid with A and B grades, working his way towards an archery scholarship of all things, but him and organisation did not go together at all; especially when his "handsome as hell" boyfriend was involved, in Clint's own words.

The rest of my morning was rather calm, getting acquainted with the new people, new office and new goals. Working with the Avengers until my retirement from SHIELD, more than two years ago now, was a job with many dangers and negative points but they are my family and we all stayed together as long as we could. Then, with Tony and Bruce juggling Avengers, eachother, SI, charities and a toddler then Steve and Natasha scouting for new recruits, Bucky and myself having three kids and Thor spending at least half his time off planet as King of Asgard with two children and Jane, it wasn't going to work forever.

Now, after working on SI and Avenger's security for two years, I'm back where I belong, teaching and in control and surrounded by children, literally this time. Mid-Town High's new principal, a big step but I never turned down a challenge. Leaving the battle-field was tough but I know James has good people on his back, he's rarely out in the field now himself, choosing to stick to training and leaving the leading to Steve and Natasha. The new recruits are family as much as the original team are. Scott Lang, Ant-Man, his daughter Cassie is a few months older than Bruce and Tony's son Dax so they get on like an ingenius house on fire. King T'Challa, Black Panther, is a trusted colleague and enjoys his gymnastic routines with Clint and Tasha. Tony's most wonderous creation, Vision, when he, Dax and Nathaniel put their minds togther, no one can stop them and, of course Rhodey, War Machine, steps in for Tony from time to time.

That was probably the biggest surprise, Tony actually settling down and allowing himself to have a break. We have Bruce, and Natasha I suppose, to thank for that; Bruce for asking him out to dinner first and Natasha for shoving Bruce into it already. Then, after being together for almost five years, along comes Dax Lucas Stark "because Banner doesn't really suit". Dax is now a five year old with genius intellect and ironically a bit of a temper but Clint and Wade treat him like a little brother.

As I hear the bell go off signalling first period, I make my way to my first class. I decided to take some liberty in my new role, allowing myself a few junior and senior politics and history classes. My first being a junior politics class with a few familiar names. I smile to myself, thinking back to how Clint was so terrified of being a big brother only to have grown into the best sibling to his little brother and sister, just like he promised, as well as Dax, and Thor and Jane's daughters, Phoenix and Grace. Phoenix latches onto Clint like a limpet and Wade just carries her around like she weighs nothing, the brown haired rogue is a few months younger (Asgardian time is complicated) than them both but has made it into the same school year this year with Thor and Jane allowing the girls to be on Earth for at least the school months. Grace on the other hand is a far more subdued blonde eleven year old, her and Nathaniel are similar in mannerisms but she treats Harlowe like the twin she doesn't have, the nine year old just counteracts her quiet with loud and tactile moves. I try not to laugh as I finally enter the classroom on my right, not bothering to look up as the teenagers bundle into their seats; I wait for the noises of realisation…

*THUNK* Clint's head hits the desk in the back row in my peripheral view.

"Huh?!" Wade's head tilts in curiousity at us both.

"Yay!" Phoenix almost jumps out of her seat in excitement.

"Good morning class, I am your new politics teacher and your principal, Mr Barnes-Coulson. You may call me Coulson," silence greets me but I see the faces of Clint's friends, Peter Parker, Ororo Munroe and the Richard's twins lighting up with arrays of emotion.

"I would appreciate silence in my classroom and if you feel the rules aren't something you need to abide by, do me a favour and remove yourself to my office so we may discuss it further… Mr Barnes-Coulson, no talking please." I peer at his sandy head over my glasses then he reddens slightly at the surname, I can make out the hand gestures in Wade's direction.

"I wasn't talking… sir,"

"Yes you were," I warn him in both sign language and vocally, making sure he understands that talking with his hands still counts.

"Aw, Dad, no," whines to himself before his head hits the desk one more time and Wade pouts at me. Well, this'll certainly be interesting.

"I'm not late!" I warn James to say a word as I rush from the Stark elevator to take my seat at the table.

"Phillip, please, Clint and I are here before you…" Wade tuts before Clint smacks the back of his head giving him a warning glare better than I ever could.

"So, Phil, I'm to rehire you?" Tony asks, passing the potato salad in my direction, the table working like a conveyor belt with the adults on the right handside and the kids down the left end, passing salads, sauces and plates of burgers, steaks and sausages.

"Hm. What time did he call you at?" I smirk, watching James' reaction as he perks up.

"Eleven thirty, Phillip," FRIDAY answers in lewd of Tony, stuffing his face full of Thor's asgardian special.

"Dammit!"

"Language," reverberates around the table as at least four parental figures warn James, before we all burst out laughing in time for James to hand me a twenty.

"Please Dad! Come on! You know you hate being out of the action, school isn't a place for your skills!" Clint bargains, blue eyes pleading with me.

"I like it. You work that classroom like no other Phil, don't let anyone tell you otherwise…" Wade recieves another slap to the back of the head from Clint before they both make goo goo eyes at eachother.

"I'm there to watch over you and your friends, train you for your new jobs, if you want them and I always did love to crunch numbers," I smirk as the boys' faces drop, Phoenix laughs so hard tears are produced and the other adults just give Clint a look as though to say, 'you really didn't think your Father, the super spy, wouldn't know about your rag tag bunch of vigilante friends'.

"I'll brief you on training times later kids. I wouldn't laugh Phoenix, that means you too," James grins before swallowing down his potatoes and Phoenix quiets with a thunderous, forgive the pun, look to her Father who just smiles like the big puppy he is.

"Can we be superheroes too Dad?" Nate jumps in, joy written all over his face.

"We'll see, you'll have to form your own team, and do all your homework and clean the house and not fight with your siblings…" James listed on and on as Nate rolled his eyes at us, Clint's fighting a laugh and Harley's eyes light up gleefully, sharing looks with Grace who just look plain terrified.

Then, that's obviously the best time for Dax to jump in from next to Bruce and Clint;

"I'll be unique, I'm gonna be a supervillain, muhahahaha!" He raises his arms above his head as though to summon his dark powers. Bruce just shakes his head in his hands and Tony struggles to swallow his food. Clint, being the wonderful, loving boy we raised decides to defuse the 'Dax' moment by tickling him into roars of laughter before throwing him onto his shoulders and declaring his loyalty to the "most evil of all villains, Dax" and cohersing, with little issue, Wade to join him when Harlowe makes kissing noises and decides to create her own team, starting with a very bored looking Nathaniel and Grace jumps in as her sister leaps onto Wade's back in a show of support.

Looking around the room at the love in each parents' eyes, the fierce protective streaks running through each member of this team and the family that I have gained over the past years. Nothing could ever come between us; we may fight supervillains, or raise them apparently, but no amount of evil could disrupt the love and loyalty that lies in our family. My husband catches my eyes, his glinting with tears of laughter at the three beings we raised, and we both know that we've kept our pinkie promises, both to eachother and to our children.


	18. Our Family Album

Here is the cover page:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=7

Phil's page:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=6

James' page:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=5

Clint's page:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=4

Harlowe's page:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=3

Nathaniel's page:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=2

And the rest of the family:

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=1

user/LauraMesser14/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_ .html?sort=3&o=0

I chose the following actors as inspiration for each of my original characters;

Clint - Jackson Brundage, age 6-13, Peyton Meyer age 14-17

Harlowe - Sura/Kayleigh Harris, age 0-3, Maggie Elizabeth Jones, age 3-12, G Hannelius, age 12+

Nathaniel - Kadan Rockett, age 4-13, Colin Ford/Billy Unger, age 13 +

Wade Wilson - Uriah Shelton

Grace Odinson - Sabrina Carpenter

Phoenix Odinson - Rowan Blanchard

Dax Stark - August Maturo


	19. Promise Ring Of The Teething Kind

Having your first baby will always come with a lot of challenges and 'firsts'. Having Clint since he was six meant James and Phil never went through sleepless nights, crying babies, toddler tantrums, diaper changes, feeding times and first steps, words, laughs but the one thing that truly tested them as parents, and their very new marriage, was teething.

Harlowe, their beautiful baby girl with blonde tufts of downy hair, chocolate brown eyes that contrasted both her fathers' and her brother's adorably and a kick that would rival any major league football player; she was a quiet baby, snuffled for food, pouted for cuddles and laughed at nearly everything Clint did. The only time that she cried with sheer abandon and utter pain was when she began to teeth at four months old.

 _ **It started with the drool…**_

"Daddy! Harley's spit all'ver my drawing!" Phil whipped his head around, catching the disappointed face of his son and the waving arms of his daughter as he tried to co-ordinate the next test-run of Tony's new Avengers equipment, before karma came smacking around looking for a new building to crumble or beast to unleash, maybe he'd already jinxed them, at the other end of the table. Tony'd presented them with a child-friendly kitchen table/workbench for their wedding present; it incorporated rounded edges of polished oak wood on one end with cushioned benches to match that then led down to a multi-coloured plastic table end that had an adjustable height for any child and chairs to match. Phil and James could work in the same space as the kids with some degree of safety from paint, pens, and apparently drool, while spending time together. Plus Clint always said it made him feel like a grown-up, pretending that he was working with his dads.

"How'd she manage that? She's strapped in her high chair?" Phil mused aloud, mostly to himself, as he moved down to witness the damage.

"She threw it at me… See!?" Clint pointed as his Father removed his reading glasses, standing over by the high-chair, close enough to watch chubby little spit-covered hands smack on the tray attached to the high-chair but splatter across Clint's workstation just below. That was a lot of drool…

"Ah-ah! No, no, Harlowe, let Daddy see those hands, hmm?" Phil cringed a little as he hefted her out of the contraption and she wrapped her soaked hands in his clean shirt, gifted for his recent birthday. Well, you couldn't really cringe that often anymore with two kids under eight in tow; the amount of times he's been covered in body fluids both at home and at work was too high to count…

"It's ruined, it was a new prototype drawing for Tony for my new bow," Clint sat his head on his hands, looking forlornly at, the rather detailed, drawing of a purple bow with interchangeable arrows to match.

"Don't worry too much ace, Daddy can make sure it's all dried up and as good as new in a minute, I'll just sort out Little Miss Spit here first. Would you do me a favour and set the table for dinner? Your Dad said he's on his way back with pizza?" Phil tried to cheer him up, some days Clint was the best child they could've asked for, always helping out and offering to do chores, but other days Phil could see him struggling to remind himself that he was only a child and that he was just as loved as Harlowe. Ever grateful to his loving husband that they came up with Boys' Night In with pizza and Clint's choice of film to remind him of just that.

"Yes! Okay, thank you Daddy!" Clint raced off towards the kitchen drawers and with a little help from JARVIS, Phil was able to take little Harley back into her room and not worry about Clint breaking anything or climbing anywhere, which he is often doing to his fathers' terror.

"Now what is wrong with daddy's little bug? Hmmm?" Phil checked her temperature, her head, her stomach, her limbs, her cheeks… A touch flush and with shoving her fists in her mouth, definitely some signs of teething. In the past few months, Harlowe proved herself to be quite untouchable, barely flinching at her jabs, not once catching the flu or chicken pox and even banging her head or catching her fingers like babies were oft doing, not even a tear so Phil wasn't worried too much. He'd heard enough horror stories from co-workers and books about days of crying, sickness, fever, diarrhoea and dehydration but his little girl was made of tough stuff as were her family, they'd pull through… What was that about jinxes?

 _ **Next came the biting…**_

"Aghhh!" The shout echoed through the corridor between the playroom and James' home office.

James damn near vaulted his desk, computer; chairs and all; being a super soldier and ex-military officer, your guard was never fully down, not even in your own home because that's when the Dad Defence went up, as soon as you see your children cry for the first time, there's nothing you wouldn't do to never see that again. So hearing what sounded like Clint cry out jolted something deeply ingrained in him, ever since Clint's abduction he'd been hyper aware of anyone around his son and with Harlowe even more vulnerable, his heart almost jumps out of his chest every time he hears the baby monitor go off. Thank Odin for Phil's calm demeanour most of the time or else he'd have them both wrapped in bubble wrap and locked in a safe somewhere unreachable from any evil.

Reaching the playroom two doors down which now included a baby friendly soft play area, he found his seven year-old clutching his arm to his chest, pout firmly stuck on his face and his four month-old chewing on her fist again; Phil had told him about the teething signs and he'd presented his many home remedies.

"What happened?" James moved further into the room, trying not to sound as out of breath as he felt.

"Harlowe bit me!" Clint's little nose scrunched up, shocked and sore, you know Clint's hurt when he uses his sibling's first full name.

"Harlowe! No! That was very naughty, this is why dad gave you some nice cool oranges to chew on. You do not bite people and definitely not your brother!" James scolded the baby as he picked her up, not shouting but keeping his voice firm so she could understand that she'd done something wrong. She tried to go back to chewing on her hands but James kept tugging them away in fear of her hurting herself so she hung her head onto her dad's shoulder. "Give Clint a kiss and say sorry," he moved her around and Clint accepted graciously as both James and Harley kissed him and once his dad checked him out he'd moved back to his Lego Avengers scene.

She'd really given him a chewing, although Harley hadn't cut any teeth yet, her gums were quite swollen and hard as though they were about to cut but that left them quite blunt, as the bruising on Clint's arm proved. James decided to remove Harley the Destroyer from the equation and try and keep her occupied with some apples in the kitchen to teeth on. Humming some vaguely new song about being young and a menace; accurate in this household most days; he carried his daughter through the corridor, her head resting on his shoulder when a sharp nipping pain radiated from his collarbone area.

The serum kept most pain to a dull throb so it took him a minute to realise that Harlowe had nudged his shirt open to reveal the junction between his neck and shoulder just enough for her to get her newly blunt gums into, with a lovely reddening mark left behind by the time he'd moved her away.

"Ah, damn, so maybe my mother's old frozen oranges aren't working for ya huh baby?" Harlowe just drooled onto his shirt and looked smugly into his eyes with some form of grin on her face.

Later that night really proved it when Phil finally returned home from a black ops project and their hot and glorious welcome home was interrupted by scrutinising and insecure looks until James explained that it _was_ in fact a love bite but one from their daughter and _not_ an affair; let's just say the night was effectively ruined by Phil's laughter and the baby monitor because…

 _ **Then came the tears…**_

"Come on sweetheart, you're okay, it's okay, shush shush shush…" Phil repeated over and over again, rocking the baby against his chest, as James tried to search for any remedies to baby teething because as grating as the screeching was to hear, the actual pain his baby girl must be going through to react that way was what was really causing his heart to break.

"Dad?" Clint shuffled in the door way, rubbing his eyes and clutching his ear.

"Hey bud, did you want to turn your aid down a little? This might go on a while," James set down his laptop to fiddle gently with the volume and signed one-handed as he spoke. "Better?"

"Yeah" Clint signed and spoke back tiredly, James lifted him up and went back to his bedroom, making sure he was comfy and not in too much pain because the aids could irritate him at night, but as these were the prototypes, Tony needed the research back so he could make it more comfortable and permanent for Clint. During all this, the crying hadn't lessened but Phil's talking had, all James could hear as he made it back was some soft humming he didn't recognise and Phil clutching at his head, 3 hours of close quarters screeching on top of 72 hours black ops would do that to a guy.

"I'm taking over, go sleep…" James clutched the whimpering infant to his chest, running through everything they've tried so far to sooth her as Phil just slumped and gave in, very unlike him, and a testament to how tired he really was. Her temperature was warm and she'd refused her bottle for the night with the pain of drinking it being too much for her.

Oranges, apples, ice, teddies, skin on skin contact, baby teething gel which worked for ten minutes, hard foods… none of the home remedies they knew worked… And the crying kicked up a notch once James stopped swaying to think, so he picked back up and thought about trying over the counter stuff even though he'd convinced Phil they wouldn't need it and that plastic in those rings was filled with toxins; Stevie came out in hives from one when he was a toddler.

Well that was night number one of six before James was ready to try anything to get his little girl to stop crying. They'd snapped at each other, at their co-workers, their friends but when they snapped at Clint for something rather innocent, that's when they knew they had enough of this; it was time for medical help.

Bringing her to Bruce should've happened a while ago but he was only back two days previously from a month-long research mission which then led to him being holed up for about 60 hours in his lab with specimens. When he checked her over, he never said a word other than to take hold of Phil's hand, wipe it with anti-bacterial wipes and press a finger along her gums, massaging them a little until Phil did it himself and finally the continuous whimpers and sniffs resided just a bit. He then handed them a rubber tube filled with water, a brand new piece of lab equipment it look like, and moved James' hands so they soothed at her jaw and cheeks, quieting her almost completely.

The three of them said nothing to each other, Bruce was re-adjusting to being in a family and in the presence of such small, vulnerable things and Phil and James were exhausted and relieved enough that they didn't have to speak for Bruce to understand how grateful they were.

After another two weeks of constant soothing and chewing, it finally came, Harlowe Barnes-Coulson's first tooth; the Avengers were never so happy to see a tooth arrive in their lives. No more tip-toeing around Agent or taking the brunt of Sergeant Barnes' exhausted temper or their child's chewing of everything placed in front of her. At one point during that first six days, Tony removed Clint from his room and had him sleepover in the lab with him just so he could hang with his best bud without having to plug his ears; Clint was also very glad and almost thankful for being partially deaf those few weeks because no matter how much he loved his sister, boy did she have a set of lungs. And his Uncle Tony knew exactly how to cheer him up when his dads were away or busy; robots, climbing and pizza!

After all was said and done and Harley's teeth kept coming, tempers fizzled and apologies were made but everything finally returned to normal when James made his first joke in a while…

"You know how Clint has his pinkie promises?" James asked Phil, lying in bed next to each other and just enjoying the silence.

"Yeah," Phil whispered in reply, watching his husband curiously.

"Well, now Harlowe has a promise ring… a promise teething ring," he grinned to himself, quite proud, as Phil just huffed and rolled his eyes next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and they both fell asleep together and dreamed of golden rings of water and babies with shark teeth.


End file.
